


Mistresses of Magic

by smileslikesunset



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileslikesunset/pseuds/smileslikesunset
Summary: The year is 1763, and harlots solicit sex around every corner. For a witch, selling her magic is just as grave a sin. With her grandmother dying and no money to her name, Bonnie finds herself contracted to the Salvatores, an elite vampire clan. But alliances are shifting in London and the Original family will do anything to stay in power. Thrust in a war tainted by love and lust, magic is the only key to survival.





	1. The Opera

**Author's Note:**

> This story is what happens when I rewatch the Vampire Diaries, become obsessed with Hulu's show Harlots, and am drowning in Restoration period homework. This story is strictly AU, and the characters ages will not align with the timeline of the show. 
> 
> The only pairings that are certain are Kolvina and Klaroline. I'm not sure who I would like Bonnie to end up with (although, I doubt it will be Jeremy). Comment below who you think Bonnie should have a romance with, if anyone. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

It was 1763, London, and the streets were sick with magic. One in every five women sells their bodies for sex to make a living. But there are other women. Women who have something worth more than their bodies to give. A witch who sells her magic is no better than a harlot to her coven. Those rare ones who find a keeper, a demon soul to contract their protection, were nothing more than mistresses of magic, shunned by witches of all walks of life and spoken about like the scum of the earth. 

Bonnie Bennet sat at her grandmother's side, murmuring a spell as she held a cloth to the old woman’s head. Her dress, a simple cotton gown with a natural waist, represented the poverty the Bennets had faced long before Bonnie Bennets time, but her beauty surpassed any notions of homeliness and class.

“Any luck?”

Lucy Bennet stood behind her younger cousin, looking at the girl sympathetically. Lucy’s dress was only slightly more extravagant. A gift from her new husband, a boring young gentleman from the Navy. His fortune was small and new, but it was enough to ensure protection that a Bennet seldom received. She put her hand on her shoulder. Bonnie stopped the spell and looked at her grandmother with tired eyes.

“Nothing is working,” Bonnie said. She stood up, brushing off her cousin’s touch, and paced the room. The small space was in disrepair. The paint was peeling off the walls, and a stench lingered. The neighbors sold poppy, amongst other things. But even here, the Bennets couldn’t afford the rent.

“Magic can’t fix everything,” Lucy said. She sat where Bonnie had been and looked at the older woman with a frown.

Bonnie gazed out the window. Down below the city was bustling. She could see men carrying slabs of meat to the market. Children ran around, taking a break from sweeping chimneys and begging for food. Her eyes focused on a collection of girls with their bosoms pushed to their chins and waving handkerchiefs.

“No,” Bonnie said. “But money can.”

Lucy got back up and looked where Bonnie’s eyes were focused and frowned. She could tell what her cousin was thinking, and she knew it would only lead to trouble.

“Oh no,” Lucy started. “You are not going to be like Emily. The Bennets already lost one good name.”

Lucy gathered her skirt and touched her cousin’s shoulder comfortingly. She turned her so Bonnie was forced to look in her eyes.

“We are going to get through this,” Lucy said. “She will get through this. But it has been days and you haven’t left her side. Why don’t you go visit Mr. Gilbert? I’m sure he will remind you why you don’t want to become the next Davina Claire of this city.”

Lucy smiled and Bonnie forced herself to smile back.

It was easier for Lucy. She had a husband. She had security. Bonnie had nothing but her Grams. That had always been enough. Bonnie never cared for a life of luxury, but without her Grams, she knew she would be walking the streets one way or another. 

“Fine,” Bonnie consented. “But I’ll be back within the hour.”

Lucy squeezed her hand.

“And we’ll be here,” she said. “Now go.”

 

The streets were even filthier then the looked from up above. Bonnie walked them with confidence. Greek Street was the scum of London, but it was Bonnie’s home and predominantly run by witches.

Almost all witches lived in London. It was safe there, and full of covens always looking for a new recruit. Some groups were more powerful. Their members tended to live in the nicer areas, leaving the weaker groups and the coven-less to roam the alleys and practice magic behind closed doors. Sometimes even the most powerful members were left to rot on the streets. Look at Davina.

The Bennets didn’t do covens. Shelia Bennet had always been against witches working in such political organizations. They were corrupt with power and a danger to everything witches were supposed to maintain. But the Bennets were a respected family despite their lack of wealth. Wealth didn’t mean much to witches. Magic did. Too bad the rest of the world only cared about how much money was in their pockets.

Bonnie turned the corner. Even if the air wasn’t fresh and her Grams was still on her mind, it was nice to be out, and it would be even nicer to see the Gilbert boy.

“Bonnie Bennet,” a voice sang.

Victoria Donavan, or “Vicki” as Bonnie had heard culls call her on the streets, stood at the street corner beside a cluster of other harlots, leering at the younger girl. Her hair was teased high, but not as high as her breasts. The protruded out of her tightly bound corset. She clicked her tongue.

“On your way to see Jeremy Gilbert are you?” asked Vicki. Bonnie stopped. She had never cared much for Vikkie, even before she had become a harlot, but she tolerated her because older brother was her friend.

“How are you doing, Miss Donovan?” Bonnie said, strained but polite. “When was the last time you visited Matt at Mr. Saltzman’s?”

Vicki didn’t react, she just kept clicking her tongue and looking over Bonnie as if she was a cockroach she had found in her morning’s porridge.

“Did you make Gilbert a man yet, Miss Bennet? Did he finally deflower you?” Vicki jeered. A couple of the other harlots giggled. Bonnie stood her ground, sending the girl a glare. Vicki gave a snort.

“Well, tell Mr. Gilbert that I am available to present him with his manhood anytime he likes. I’ll even give him his first fuck for free.”

Bonnie clenched her fist and pushed past Vicki. She could hear her laughter as she turned the street.

The Saltzman boarding house was a small estate, like most city estates, but is was in good repair. Alaric Saltzman was a scholar well liked by parliament, and he had been a friend of the Gilbert family for many years. When they had moved to America, the had left Jeremy Gilbert, their only son, in his care so her could learn underneath Mr. Satlzman and aid him at his printing press.

Jeremy opened the door after the third knock, giving her a large smile. His smile was almost enough to rid Bonnie of all of her worries. Almost.

She had begun to fancy the Gilbert boy only a year ago. They had grown up friends. Bonnie used to play with his older sister, Elena, before she moved with her parents to the colonies. Jeremy had always been the nice boy. A good boy. But he had a grown into a man, a rather handsome one. Bonnie knew he would take care of her if he were her husband. But even if the Gilberts did not come from great wealth, to marry Bonnie would be a step down in station, and, unlike her friend Caroline, Bonnie was not looking for a marriage to raise her above her current social place.

“Bonnie!” cried Jeremy, unable to hide his excitement. If social protocol would have allowed for a hug he would have surely given it. He moved out the doorway to let her in. “I was hoping you would stop by. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you out, I thought you might had become a vampire or something.”

Bonnie gave him a serious look.

“Don’t joke about such things!”

“Oh come now,” Jeremy said as he shut the door behind her.

The Saltzman residence was not spacious but offered more room than Bonnie was accustomed to. A pretty maid curtsied as they started walking up the stairs to the printing press, a place of relative privacy.

“Please do not tell me you believe those whispers about demons and spells always murmuring throughout the streets. I thought you had more sense then that Bonnie Bennet,” said Jeremy, his voice teasing.

“I will let you know, Mr. Gilbert, that I have plenty of sense. But I also have sensibility, which is why I do not humor such dark rumors,” said Bonnie, hoping to bypass the matter.

Jeremy Gilbert, like most of the company Bonnie kept, was human. London might be full of witches, but most humans remained blissfully unaware of the magic right underneath their noses. They also remained unaware of the evil creatures that breathed down their necks.

“Bonnie!”

Matt Donavan grinned at her as he looked up from his parchment. He was inscribing whatever notes Mr. Saltzman had left him to be bound. Fortunately for them, Mr. Saltzman was not a strict Editor, and he would not mind letting his apprentices take a break. Although, Bonnie doubted the blonde boy was getting much done once she spotted the girl next to him.

Caroline Forbes had already gotten up from her chair and ran to throw her arms around her.

“I’m so glad you are here,” squealed the blonde girl. “You are just in time, I was just about to inform Matt and Jeremy about the man I’ve decided to marry.”

Caroline paused, expecting a dramatic reaction, but Bonnie just smiled. Caroline Forbes had been proclaiming what boy she would marry since she was twelve. It changed by the month, sometimes the week. The young Forbes woman had received many a proposal, but none of them were good enough to please the picky girl.

Caroline Forbes was born for the life of the upper-class. She was beautiful and charming. She had the voice of an angel and card skills that would put the devil to shame. She was smart, and smart enough to keep quiet around men so they believed her to be dumb. The perfect lady.

Unfortunately, the Forbes were not the upper class, but Caroline knew the right marriage could fix this. She was pretty enough. She knew she would eventually ensnare the right man.

“Perhaps we should let Bonnie have some tea before you tell her about your new beau,” said Jeremy, exchanging a knowing glance with the Bennet witch.

"Oh yes, fine, but hurry! I have finally found the perfect man. Such a gentleman, and so high up in the world. You won't believe me when I tell you."

Matt gave an uncomfortable cough. He stood to pull out a chair for Bonnie, and the way he looked at Caroline did not escape her gaze. Matt had been in love with the girl for years but did not exactly meet Caroline's qualifications. It did not matter. He was promised to Elena Gilbert who would be coming to meet up with him in only a few weeks time. It was for the best. There was no room for love in London.

"How is your Grams doing?" asked Jeremy. He moved the pieces of parchment out of the way and placed teacup in front of her before sitting down. 

“Better,” Bonnie lied. It was easier to lie. There was nothing they could do to help her. Even if they did have the money (which they did not) to move Shelia Bennet to a proper house with a proper nurse, there was nothing ever given for free. Money was power, and it was not taken lightly.

“That’s great news, Bon,” said Caroline. She took her seat next to her friend. Her posture was perfect, and she held her teacup with precision. She gave Matt a cheeky look.

“You must be excited. Elena Gilbert is rumored to be arriving soon. You’ll be an honest man soon enough,” Caroline teased. “I hear she is beautiful like her mother.”

Matt flushed, and Jeremy sipped his tea uncomfortably at the mention of his sister.

“Her uncle was supposed to bring her portrait to me, but he seems to have misplaced it,” admitted Matt.

“Her charms will be a lovely surprise then,” said Caroline, squeezing Matt’s hand and offering him a kind smile. Bonnie felt for the boy. Caroline had no idea of her effect on a lad that actually cared for her.

“Speaking of surprises,” Caroline continued, and Bonnie could tell that any patience she had left her promptly. “I have officially decided I will marry Joshua Rosza.”

Jeremy and Matt both laughed, and the girls shot them confused glances. Bonnie tried to rack her mind for where she had heard the name before.

“Josh?” asked Jeremy. “Surely you’re humoring us.”

Caroline looked affronted.

“Do you doubt my ability to woo him?” asked Caroline.

“Yes,” said Matt, but before Caroline could interrupt him, he continued. “Because everyone knows he’s only interested in culls.”

Bonnie snorted, and Caroline rolled her eyes, but she didn’t look surprised.

“So was my father, but that didn’t stop him and my mother from getting wed,” said Caroline, unabashedly. She took a sip of her tea. “Besides. He’s perfect. Not aristocratic, so socially are marriage is acceptable. But, he is the right-hand man to none other than Marcel Mikaelson.”

Bonnie’s blood went cold.

“You’re trying to get in with the Mikaelsons?” asked Jeremy. He let out a low whistle. “I knew your ambitions were high, but I didn’t realize you were planning to climb a mountain.”

“Not trying, succeeding” Caroline corrected. “He’s coming by my parent’s cobbler shop to pick up his shoe, and I am going to convince him that he must propose.”

“Caroline,” Bonnie started. Her voice was slow, and she was trying to keep her calm. She had to remind herself that Caroline did not know any better. That she was innocent in all of this, and Bonnie wanted it to stay that way.

Caroline’s eyes widened, and before Bonnie could continue she interrupted her.

“I know you don’t like them because of Davina,” Caroline said. “And that was her choice. But this is nothing like that. Bonnie, this is my chance.”

Davina was not even part of the issue, but Bonnie knew better than to correct her friend. But the mention of the girl’s name gave her an idea. She remembered Vicki on the streets, and Lucy’s face as she brought up Emily. Then she thought of Grams, and how she would die and Bonnie would be left on the streets.

 “You’re right,” Bonnie said, a plan forming in her mind. “I was actually hoping to get Davina a message. If I gave you a note, would you pass it along to Josh? He might be able to reach her.”

Caroline furrowed her brows, watching Bonnie get up and grab a spare scrap of parchment. She grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink and began scrawling her message.

“I suppose not,” said Caroline. “But what could you want to ask Davina? I don’t think it’s very wise to associate yourself with her. It wouldn’t hurt you to think more about marriage.”

As she said this her eyes trailed over to Jeremy, who was already looking away with a blush. Bonnie was too rapt up in her writing to take notice. She finished and folded the note before handing it to Caroline.

 “Joshua Rosza sounds like a lovely match,” Bonnie lied. “Do you still drink that tea I gave you every morning?”

Caroline’s brow furrowed as she stuffed the note between her breasts. Matt and Jeremy looked away.

“The one with that strange little herb your so obsessed with? Of course. It’s delicious,” said Caroline. She gave a laugh. “Careful Bonnie! One might mistake you for a witch if you keep insisting we drink your potions!”

Bonnie laughed with her friends and the four to speak gaily, unaware of the plan forming in the witch’s mind.

 

* * *

 

Bonnie Bennet clapped as the young Opera singer gave her first bow of the evening. Red hair and rosy cheeks, the performer blew kisses to the audience. Even from her seat in the balcony, Bonnie could make out the two puncture marks on her neck, red and raw without the layers of white powder the girl surely had sweat off. Eyes traveling the floor seats, Bonnie wondered which member of the audience had taken a bite during intermission.

She had managed the seat only because one of the stewards owed Shelia Bennet for a bit of magic she had performed a few years ago. Bonnie felt out of place amongst the splendor. She had worn her best dress, which was nothing compared the silks she had seen the elite women wear around her. A moth amongst butterflies.

“Miss Bennet.”

Bonnie turned what attention she had away from the stage to see a young woman pushing back the curtain to Bonnie's opera box and making her way inside. Short and slender, Davina Claire was a sight in a gown made of fine silks, and jewelry that could put the Queen to shame. She looked like a lady, not how Bonnie remembered her. She had been fifteen when she had last seen her: the girl who lived two doors down and worked in the factories. She had always been beautiful, but now, three years later, she was costumed to look like the prize she was.

All witches in London knew of Davina Claire. She had made herself infamous after refusing to participate in the ritual of her coven. Bonnie still did not know what the ritual pertained, but if the rumors were true she could not blame the girl for running. Most of the witches didn't. It was the arms Davina Claire ran to that made that made the rest of the London witches turn their heads.

“Davina,” Bonnie said. She hadn’t said the name in a while. No witch on Greek Street did, except underneath blanket of night and petty gossip. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure if you would have gotten my message.”

Davina smiled but did not say anything as she took the seat next to Bonnie. She looked out at the stage where the young singer was beginning her final song. There was a control to her movements, a sense of nobility and grace that was foreign to Bonnie. Davina Claire was no longer the innocent, naïve girl that she remembered. 

“I know you wouldn’t have reached out if it was not important,” said Davina, finally. “I am under no impression that I have suddenly returned to the witches’ good graces. They will talk about you for meeting with me, but you already know that. That means you must be prepared for them to talk, perhaps prepared for them to talk about worse things.”

As Davina spoke, her eyes trailed across the room to another opera box on the other side of the room, the one that Bonnie had been avoiding looking at all evening. Two men sat in it. Brothers, known throughout all of England for their great fortune and reputation. They were only two of five Mikaelson siblings. Elijah, the oldest brother and the wisest, and Kol, the wildest. Bonnie did not miss how Kol’s eyes trained on them, particularly how he watched Davina.

 _Maybe the rumors are true,_ Bonnie thought as she caught Davina meet Kol’s gaze. The possibility made her stomach churn. The conversation had just begun, and yet she was ready for it to end. 

“It’s my Grams,” she told Davina. She clutched at her skirt, much less fanciful than Davina’s. “She’s dying, and I do not know how to save her.”

“But you do,” said Davina. She turned her head and looked at Bonnie, features expressionless, but the older witch thought she caught a hint of pity in her voice. “That’s why you wished to speak with me. You wanted to know if it is as terrible as they say. If my choice was worth the rewards.”

Bonnie stayed silent. She did not cry. She was never one to cry, but she had no energy left to fight all of the emotions that had been coursing through her the past few months. Her Grams sudden sickness, the debt that had fallen on them, the failure of magic to provide cures.

“I have no money,” Bonnie said. “She will die soon, and I have no money to save or myself. But I do not know if I can do what you have done. If I could sell, if I could give up—

“Yourself?” supplied Davina. She pursed her lips. “Your magic? Become nothing but a whore in the eyes of the witches.”

The word made Bonnie flinch.

“I never said I believed you to be a harlot,” said Bonnie.

Davina gave a dry laugh, and once again Bonnie could see how the girl had aged.

“But don’t you? A normal human gives herself to a man for rewards. A witch’s self is her magic, so is it not the same when she sells it? Does she not become a mistress in the eyes of her coven when she signs her gifts to the will of someone else?”

Davina paused. Her eyes trailed across the room at Kol once more. He was still watching them.

“I don’t regret it,” Davina said as she stood up. “The Mikaelsons saved my life when the witches wished to take it. If you want to save your Grams, this choice will do it. If you’re serious, I will have my friend Joshua come to you with some names—Vampire clans on the market for a witch. I do not doubt that a Bennet could strike quite the deal.”

There was a coughing sound and both Davina and Bonnie turned to see Kol standing behind them. He wore the grin that he infamous for, but there was a tightness to his posture as he looked between the two girls.

“I hate to cut what I imagine to be a sweet reunion short,” Kol said, “but we just received word from brother dearest that we are needed.”

Bonnie knew whom Kol spoke of and was surprised to see Davina keep her composure. She supposed that living with the awful creature for three years had numbed her. Bonnie did not know if she could ever be so numb. Maybe she already was.

Davina took Kol’s hand, and Bonnie noticed the Original vampire squeeze the young girl’s hand affectionately. Davina looked back over her shoulder at Bonnie just as she was about to leave.

“I’ll be in touch,” Davina said. “Perhaps I will see you again, Miss Bennet.”

They left, Bonnie looked across the Opera House to see Elijah was no longer in his box seat. The Opera singer was belting her last note. The curtain would drop soon. The show would be over.

 

* * *

 

The carriage moved quickly through the streets of London. Davina looked out the window, watching the buildings pass by. The stars were out in the sky, and they were beautiful.

“Do you know what Klaus wants this late at night?” she asked. Kol held her hand, tracing her gloved fingers with his own. There was no heat to his touch, and yet the contact made her feel warm. Kol had always managed to make her feel warm.

“I’m sure it is just one of his fits, darling,” he said, soothingly. But Davina knew him too well. She could tell he was anxious, as he always was whenever Klaus requested her. Requested would be a polite term. After all, she was his property.

"How did you enjoy the Opera, Elijah?" Davina asked the older Mikelson who sat opposite them. He was reading a pocket book, looking unconcerned with the haste at which they were moving. 

“The singer was mediocre at best,” He commented, not raising his eyes. “But I always did have a soft spot for an Italian ballad. I was pleased you invited me, Miss Davina. Although I am sure it was not for my benefit.”

Davina felt Kol’s grip tense, and she squeezed his hand to soothe him.

“I appreciate your willingness to let me speak to my friend.”

“More curiosity than anything, Miss Davina," said Elijah. He flipped a page in his book. "I will say, I did not know you had ties to the Bennets."

“I have ties to no one,” said Davina. “Not anymore. But Bonnie is an old acquaintance and smart company. Forgive me, if I admit that sometimes your family can be quite tiresome.”

Kol smirked, and even Elijah’s lip quivered upwards

“I cannot fault you there,” Elijah said.

“See brother,” Kol said. “This is why you must speak to Nick about letting me take Davina out on some proper dates. The girl will go mad with just us and the walls of the estate for company!”

Elijah’s lips turned down again.

“Ah yes,” he drawled. “But I fear your temptation to steal Niklaus’ witch is too great. A carriage ride into town could turn into a run for the States. Best for you and Miss Davina that I don’t raise the matter to him and dig your graves.”

Kol opened his mouth to respond, but Davina squeezed his hand. Their eyes met. Davina could tell he was hurting. She hated that she hurt him.

“It’s fine, Kol,” she said. She gave a small smile, her voice joking despite the strain apparent in her gaze. “Such is the life of a mistress.”

 


	2. The Original Harlot

Kol Mikaelson’s feelings towards his brother had evolved from harboring simple annoyance to sheer loathing in the span of a few years and only love was to blame.

The youngest Mikaelson brother stroked Davina’s gloved hand as the carriage pulled up to the family estate, one of largest privately owned-properties in London and certainly the most lavish. He glared at it from the carriage window, his hold on the young witch tightening. A beautiful prison was all it was for all save one of its inhabitants.

“You’re tense,” Davina whispered from beside him. The whisper was only a courtesy, for there was nothing to stop Elijah from hearing their conversation. Vampire or not, he sat only a mere foot away from them in the carriage. The eldest Mikaelson politely stared out the carriage window, pretending to be impervious to their words.

Kol admired his beautiful witch, his body relaxing slightly as he took in the sight of her. If you would have told him four years ago that he would have become a total sap for some mortal girl, he would have laughed and snapped your neck (not without taking a bite or two first, naturally). Kol Mikaelson did not fall in love. He was incapable of anything that wasn’t entirely selfish and self-serving, and love certainly was not that.

And then he met Davina Claire.

She was young, probably too young to be fancied, but when had that ever stopped him? His brother had sent him to be her tutor, someone to polish the new goods by teaching her how to control her magic. Kol always had a thing for powerful witches, and Davina Claire was certainly a powerful witch. But he had learned she was so much more.

Davina Clair was a girl smited by the world itself, who looked those who wronged her in the face and told them point blank to go to hell. A smart little minx with an infuriating sense of justice. But when she looked at him, Kol felt like he could carry the earth. No one every looked at him with so much affection. No one ever cared like she did. And somewhere along the line, she had stolen his heart.

And his damn brother knew it.

“Don’t let him see that he gets to you,” Davina continued. “You’ll only feed his monstrous ego.”

“I'm aghast, Davina Claire," Kol put a hand to his chest as if wounded. “I thought you said my ego was the most monstrous of egos in all London! How dare you take that title away from me.”

Davina smiled a bit and hit his arm.

"I'm serious," Davina said, suddenly becoming serious again. "I'm not worth the hassle."

The carriage came to a stop. Elijah headed out, but Davina stayed still.

“Please, Kol,” she said, big blue eyes pleading with him.

Kol kissed her. She tasted like honey. He wanted nothing more than to whisk her away. He knew she would love Italy or Paris. They could find a small chateau and she could listen to all types of music. He would build a drawing room where she could sit in the sun and paint for hours, and he would be content with just sitting next to her and making her smile. He would take her anywhere if it meant letting her be free. When they pulled apart he kissed her forehead.

“You will _always_ be worth it,” Kold told her. He looked into her eyes, hoping that somehow he could make her believe that he meant it. Knowing the moment had to end, Kol forced a smile and headed. “Don’t worry about me, darling. I promise to be on my best behavior Now get out of here before my brother stabs us both.”

 

* * *

 

“Ah Kol, Lady Davina, so nice of you to finally join us.”

Klaus Mikaelson sat in the parlor room, holding a glass of blood in his right hand, and looking smug. He sat on the loveseat next to a man that Kol did not recognize but from his smell, it seemed he was a werewolf. Rebekah, Finn, and Marcel sat in chairs opposite him, Elijah moving to join them. Kol hated family meetings.

“Now, when my messenger told you I called for you, did you take that as optional? Or were you all trying to annoy me with your tardiness?” Klaus asked. He took a sip of blood and stood up. He stepped forward until he was only a few spaces in front of Davina. Kol’s body tensed.

“Brother, must you always draw out these family meetings with your dramatics?” asked Rebekah, looking positively bored. “Some of us have other aspects of our lives we must attend to that do not include your tiresome speeches.”

“Ah, Rebekah, always the impatient one,” chuckled Klaus. He raised an eyebrow her way. “Tell me, am I keeping you away from your little party arrangements? I’m terribly sorry.”

Rebekah scowled. Marcel put his hand on her shoulder. Finn looked as though he would rather be stabbing himself in the eyes then be sitting there.

“This party that you mock sets the foundation for securing alliances for the next year,” Rebekah hissed. “But if you would like me to leave our family’s safety to the hands of dogs and mind-controlled mortals, then by my guest.”

Klaus rolled his eyes and took a sip of blood.

“Now that Rebekah has completed the obligatory action of making herself the center of attention, I do so hope my little witch enjoyed the opera," Klaus said. He played with one of Davina's curl, admiring his witch courtesan. "Because after tonight I am going to need you on witch-mode nonstop. No London escapades. Totally focused."

At this last line, Klaus’ gaze turned to Kol and he smirked. Kol scowled at him. Klaus got up and stood in front of his witch, hand going up to play with her long hair. Kol knew his brother was only doing it to annoy him.

Davina kept her composure, not flinching as Klaus’ fingers kept playing with her curl. Her expression remained neutral as she met Klaus’ eyes.

“What is it you want, Klaus?” she said, her voice free of any false pretenses of respect or care. It was enough to wipe away Kol’s scowl. That was his Davina.

Klaus pulled away from the witch and returned to his seat. The man next to him flinched.

“Nothing too hard, right now,” Klaus said. “A simple tracking spell to find the Petrova doppelganger so that I can finally free myself of this wretched curse will be enough."

Kol froze, and he could see that Davina was taken aback. Out of his siblings, only Elijah looked surprised. Something must have happened while they were at the opera.

“Why don’t you take a seat, D?” said Marcel, getting up from his own chair.

Kol never liked Marcel. He might be a called a Mikaelson, but he was no blood of his. The only good quality he had as far as the youngest original brother was concerned was that it was he who saved Davina from the crazy London witches who had tried to sacrifice her.

“Yes, take a seat little witch. Our friend here has quite the story,” said Klaus. If Kol did not now any better, his brother was practically giddy. Klaus clapped the man next to him on the back. “I believe introductions are in order. Kol, Elijah, Davina, this is Tyler Lockwood. One of the many werewolves I have taken under my wing. Tyler, that pretty thing is my witch, the annoyingly impartial one is Elijah, and the one who looks like he is ready to rip out my heart is Kol.”

Kol scoffed and moved to stand behind Davina.

“Always the fan of the theatrics, brother,” Kol drawled. “If you and Elijah are still hung up on Katherine, I doubt Davina can be any help. Magic can’t cure a broken—“

"I thought the doppelganger was dead," said Davina, cutting Kol off before he could say anything else. "Isn't that why my welcome present was a history of the hybrid curse and orders to find a way to complete it without the Petrova?”

"Good memory," Klaus commented, seemingly unfazed by Kol's candor. "You see, I was under the impression that the doppelganger line ended with the vixen who stupidly turned herself into the vampire. But, according to Mr. Lockwood, it appears we have been mistaken. Tyler, mate, why don’t you tell everyone about who you ran into during your visit to America?”

Tyler looked entirely uncomfortable and took in a deep breath. Kol wondered what leverage his brother had on the werewolf to earn his allegiance.

“I went to visit an Uncle of mine in Virgina to discuss family matters,” started Tyler. His voice was gruff. Definitely a werewolf. “I saw a girl. She looked like Katherine.”

“Ever think it might be Katherine?” asked Kol. He wondered what Klaus was getting at and how it involved Davina. He turned his attention to Klaus. “This dog doesn’t seem too bright, Nick.”

“She wasn’t Katherine,” Tyler said defensively. “This girl was definitely human. Her name’s Elena Gilbert. Her uncle was supposed to bring her portrait back to some apprentice. I swiped it from him while we were on the ship.”

“Have a look at this ‘Lijah," Klaus said. He held a small piece of parchment in has hand. "It looks like your favorite doppelganger wasn't as wholesome as she wanted you to believe. Of course, we knew her soul was corrupt, but even I was surprised to learn her body had been so impure before she met you. Makes me wonder who the bastard was who got her pregnant.”

Elijah was not fazed by his brother’s words. He took the picture from Klaus and looked at it. Kol moved over to look over his shoulder and was surprised by what he saw.

It was the portrait of a young woman, unmistakable even in black and white. Her eyes were like a young doe, her cheekbones high and lips full. The perfect copy of Katherine Pierce.

"How do you know this isn't some trick?" Elijah asked, ignoring Tyler and looking straight at his brother. "Surely there are plenty who would like to lure you into some trap. You haven't seen this girl. It could be some portrait of Katherine passed around in hopes of getting you to bite."

Kol took the photo from Elijah and passed it soundlessly to Davina. The witch’s brows furrowed as she stared at it. She had never met Katherine Pierce, and Kol hoped it would stay that way. Nothing ever good came from that woman, and he didn’t need her complicating Davina’s life more than his family already had.

"Well, seeing as Katherine Pierce was last spotted in Italy hiding with her new witch, I doubt she would have hidden away in Virginia. Colonies were never Katherine's style. She always liked more glamor," said Klaus. Kol was surprised with how confident he sounded. "But, what do I know? I'm a mere powerful original who has roamed the earth for seven hundred years. Fortunately, we have a little witch to check for us.”

Everyone’s eyes turned on Davina. She was still inspecting the photo, running her gloved thumb over the girl’s face.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked, looking up to meet the Original’s eyes. Klaus put down his glass and clapped his hands together. Kol tensed once more, an action that did not go unnoticed by Klaus.

“You do not need to worry brother. I would never put my precious witch in danger. A simple tracking spell will do, love. Check to see the girl’s location. Tyler has reason to believe it might have changed since his visit to Mystic Falls.”

Davina raised an eyebrow, lips puckering in thought.

“I’m going to need more than a photo if you want me to find her,” Davina said. Kol was proud of how she spoke to Klaus with so much confidence. Few people had the nerve to talk back to Klaus. Davina was truly a gem.

Klaus snapped his fingers and Tyler pulled out a smell pouch. From it, he displayed a silver necklace. It was simple and rather ugly in Kol’s opinion, but he never paid much attention to jewelry.

“She wore this every day, according to some of the other girls in the town,” said Tyler. He grinned, sheepish. “I might have swiped it from her bedside table. I also grabbed a few strands of her hair.”

Rebekah snorted from the other side of the room, the first sound she had made since the three of them had arrived. Finn stayed quiet next to her, still as a stone.

“Creeper,” scoffed the Mikaelson sister.

“Her blood would be more reliable,” Davina said, ignoring Rebekah. She got up and grabbed the necklace from Tyler, holding it and the portrait in her hand. As she studied the necklace, Kol noticed her pause. There was a flicker of realization in her gaze, but it was gone before any of the other siblings noticed it.

“I know a spell that will work,” Davina said after a moment. She turned to Marcel. “I’ll need a dagger, but I should be able to do the spell rather quickly. Although I would prefer to perform it alone.”

Davina gave Klaus a meaningful look, but the original did not seem affected by it.

"Don't worry, love," drawled Klaus. "We're all family here. Do what you need to do. Find my doppelganger. We won't bother you."

He smirked, showing his teeth. They always had been sharp, even when he wasn’t getting ready to feed on some innocent victim. Kol clenched his fist at his side. Klaus turned his attention to him.

“I’m sorry, Kol, is there something you would like to say?” asked Klaus. Kol continued to glare at him. Before he knew it, Klaus had flashed over to him and pushed him against the wall. Klaus’ hand was plunged into his chest, squeezing on his heart.

“Don’t get any ideas brother,” threatened Klaus. “Do not forget I own her. I don’t care about your petty feelings. I keep you alive as a courtesy, but I can and will dagger you if you become a hindrance. Do you understand?”

Kol spluttered for air, trying to move out of his brother’s tight grasp.

“Stop it!” Davina shouted, the only one in the room beside Tyler who looked even remotely fazed by the squabble. “I’ll do the spell here. Just let him go!”

Klaus paused to give Kol a sickening smirk before removing his grip. Kol groaned as he slid down the wall and glared at Klaus with every inch of loathing in his body. He was going to feel that one for a while.

“Consider it motivation, love,” said Klaus. “Now shall we begin?”

Davina sucked in her cheeks, keeping her head held high. Marcel handed her a short dagger, and she took it with a small nod before returning Klaus’ gaze.

“Could someone get me a table and a chair? Unless, of course, you want me to bleed all over your rug. A gift from the king of France, wasn’t it?”

Davina raised a brow.

Klaus rolled his eyes but sent Elijah a look. The older brother moved into action and with a flash and brought a small sitting room table in front of the witch along with a small comfortable chair. Davina took her time adjusting her posture as she sat down.

“You have her hair?” Davina asked Tyler. The werewolf nodded and pulled out a few strands of brown hair from the same pouch he had carried the necklace in. The witch placed them down on the table next to the silver necklace. She undid her gloves, taking her time to fold the silk fabric neatly off to the side, before clutching the dagger with her right hand and using it to stab her palm.

Kol had to use all the self-control he possessed from getting up from the floor. Davina’s scent was intoxicating, and it was only a healthy diet and his great love for the girl that stopped him from flashing over to take a sip. He understood why she wanted to do this alone now. Shedding blood in a room full of vampires, even ones who had years of practicing restraint, must be a daunting task.

Davina closed her eyes. She set down the dagger, blood dripping from the sharp tip. In her bleeding palm she grabbed the hair and in the other she held the necklace. The Mikaelsons watched with baited breath as the witch began murmuring something unintelligible in Latin. Kol wished that Tyler had been smart enough to bring blood back with him. The spell might not be as accurate when figuring out whether or not the news of this girl was some trick, but it was less dangerous.

“Shouldn’t this spell be done with a vessel of some sort?” asked Rebekah, eyeing the witch with curiosity.

“Bekah, when you become the most powerful witch in London then you can decide how the spells in this house are done,” said Klaus.

But Beks was right. Kol had plenty of practice with spells when he was a witch. Normally there was another person involved in this particular spell. But Davina was smart. The fewer people she brought with her, the less involved, the better for everyone. They needed to know if it was a trap first. In this instance, she was practically Klaus' test dummy.

It made Kol sick.

Davina's muscles tensed, but she was still chanting. Klaus paced around her, circling her like the wolf still inside of him. After a few moments, the candles in the house flared up. Finn let out an annoyed gasp as the sleeve of his shirt caught on fire, and he quickly put it out. The flames went down, and Davina opened her eyes. She looked at Klaus then at Tyler.

"Well?" pressed Klaus. "Was that all theatrics or did you find my doppelgangers?"

“I saw her,” Davina said, still composed despite the little bit of blood beginning to drip it from her nose. She wiped it away. “She’s human. Looks just like the portrait. She’s on a boat to London, but that’s all I could see.”

Kol could tell there was something Davina was keeping from his brother. No one spoke as Klaus continued to prowl around the witch before finally stopping to let out a cruel laugh.

“Well isn’t this your lucky day! I get my doppelganger, and Bekah doesn't even need to miss the little party she has planned," said Klaus. He stopped by Tyler and clapped the werewolf on the back. "You will be rewarded in due time, Mr. Lockwood. Marcel, send our men to the docks. I want it to be teeming with vampires and werewolves on the lookout for Miss Gilbert's arrival. I don't want her to step a foot in London without our eyes on her.”

Klaus looked at Davina, still standing despite the blood dripping from her palm and nose.

“Nicely done, little witch,” said Klaus. “I knew I made a good investment with you.”

With those last words and a haughty gaze, Klaus left for his study. The others relaxed and began to leave. The family meeting had been dismissed, and they were left to wait to see what happened next.

 

 * * * 

 

Davina clutched her bleeding hand as Kol helped her to her room. She could tell he was struggling with the scent of her so fresh in the air, but she was proud of his resolve as he bit into his wrist and held it out to her.

“Drink, darling,” he said. Although it was a command, it sounded more like a plea.

Davina hated vampire blood. Whenever she was hurt she would fight drinking blood until someone forced her. After one particularly nasty fall down the compound stairs, Klaus had forced his blood into her. Sometimes, at night when she awoke from a nightmare, she could still feel the thick, coppery liquid running down her throat. Despite her disgust, Davina obliged and sucked on Kol’s open wound.

She could feel the effects almost immediately. When she lifted her head, she looked at her palm. It was completely healed. Kol was watching her carefully. He lifted his hands to her cheek, cradling her face.

“Davi—“

He stopped as Davina lifted a finger to her lips, warning him to not speak. Closing her eyes, she cast a privacy spell over the room and then nodded.

“Are you alright, darling?” Kol asked, continuing to use his favorite pet name for her. Davina nodded but didn't say anything. Kol moved his hands away, clenching them into fists as he turned around and punched the wall.

“I hate this!” he cried, letting out all of the emotions Davina knew he had been working hard to keep hidden. “I hate the way he treats us. Treats you. Like some sort of servant.”

He punched the wall again, and Davina was just grateful he didn’t break it. She walked to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Kol,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument as she gently pulled him towards her. “Look at me. It’s okay.”

Kol took in a few deep breaths as he calmed down before pulling Davina into him. Davina rested her head on his chest. Sometimes she imagined she could hear his heart beating. Life would be so much simpler if they were human. If only class was the only thing standing in their way.

“Remember the first day you and I met? How I nearly burned down the manor as we went over lighting candles? What was it you told me that day?” Davina whispered into his chest.

Kol rested his head on top of hers.

“I told you that if you set your dress on fire I wouldn’t help you find a new one.”

Davina giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “But what was the other thing you told me?”

Kol let out a long exhale, any leftover tension leaving his body.

“Learning control is like falling in love. You have to give into the feeling of chaos before you can begin to understand it,” Kol said. He snorted. “What a git.”

“True,” Davina laughed.

“I was lying then, you know,” Kol said. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her away so he could look her in the eyes. “I had no idea what falling in love felt like.”

Davina raised a teasing brow at him.

“And now?” she breathed, his lips hovering just centimeters from hers.

Kol’s lips found hers, and they locked in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed her body, feeling ever curve of her before throwing her against the wall. Davina wrapped her legs around his torso, letting out a moan of please as his lips found her neck and trailed kisses across her décolleté.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t the only one in that room doing the teaching,” Kol whispered in her ear before biting the tip of it.

In the privacy of Davina's room, the two allowed themselves to let go of the control that they worked so hard to maintain. In these tender moments, they were not a witch and a vampire, but lovers who wanted nothing more but to explore each other. Hours later, Davina found herself naked in Kol's arms, the covers of her bed haphazardly pulled over them. Kol traced her cheek with his hand, a rare and content smile on his face to match her own. They stayed in silence, letting themselves breathe, before Davina found the courage to tell him what she had seen.

"The girl knows about vampires," Davina whispered. Kol pulled away to look at her in surprise. "The doppelganger, Elena. Her necklace had vervain inside of it. And when I saw her on the boat she wasn't alone."

Kol kissed her forehead.

“Who was she with?” he asked.

Davina bit her lip and looked into his eyes. She remembered the first time he entered her room. She had hated him as much as she hated his brother. The only one she owed was Marcel, the vampire who saved her life. Klaus was just a name on her contract, and Kol was just a stipulation. So much had changed.

“Stefan Salvatore,” she whispered.

Kol stared down at her. He kissed her tenderly, his arms tightening around her small frame protectively. She knew they would haven to talk more about what she saw, about what she was risking by keeping it from Klaus. But for now, they could pretend that they were just two humans in love, ready to spend the night in each other’s arms.

* * *

Bonnie found it difficult to pay attention to her mending for two reasons. The first being she could not get the conversation she had with Davina out of her mind, the second being Caroline was determined to distract her.

“He didn’t even pretend to be interested in me, not even when I told him about my father being a councilman!” Caroline ranted. Her own mending had been pushed off the side in her annoyance as she paced around the room. They were the back of her parent’s shop. The Forbes paid Bonnie a fair sum to help them out when things got busy, and Lucy had promised to watch Grams while she was away.

“Do you think it was because of the note you had me give him? The one for Davina?” Caroline asked. She let out a gasp of realization. “He must think I’m associated with a courtesan!”

“Caroline,” Bonnie scolded.

“What? That’s what she is,” Caroline shot back.

Bonnie shook her head with exasperation.

“That’s not what—You know what? Never mind. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he wasn’t the one.”

“I don’t need the one. I need security!” Caroline huffed, falling dramatically back in her chair.

Bonnie sympathized with her friend. Anyone might mistake Caroline for some gold hunting seductress, but Bonnie knew better. Caroline had ambition. But for a woman, ambition hardly had an outlet. Money and a decent status could provide for them what their gender prohibited. Bonnie just wished that Caroline put her happiness somewhere in the equation.

“You’ll find it,” Bonnie said, she leaned over and squeezed her friend’s hand reassuringly. “Because when you have a goal, you won’t stop until it’s finished.”

Caroline offered Bonnie a genuine smile.

“Life would be so much easier if I was born a man,” she said.

Bonnie thought once more about Davina and nodded.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

 

* * *

 

The sun was down by the time Bonnie had finished her mending. The streets were now unabashedly full of ladies of the night. Shady and respected gentlemen alike casually strode across the road, poking their heads into the open doorways of buildings where the sounds of groans and moans pierced the crisp night air. Bonnie walked the streets with her head held high, doing her best to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. Bonnie did not fear the streets, despite the various dangers that lurked. She had always been able to handle herself. But drawing unnecessary attention to herself would do no good, especially if word got out about recent events.

She had just made it in front of her home when she felt a hand grab her and pull her away, tugging her into a dark corner of an alley. Bonnie let out a startled grunt but did not scream as she immediately pushed the person off her with her magic. Her attacked slammed against the wall, falling down with a groan.

It was a man who appeared only a years older than herself. Whether or not he actually was remained a mystery. Bonnie recognized the coldness of his touch. Only the worst kind of demons felt of frost. Vampires.

"Tell me what you want or I will fry your brain so bad you'll be crawling like a rat on streets until the next century," Bonnie hissed, holding her hand out as she tried to gauge what she was up against.

The vampire lifted his hands to his sides, slowly getting up from the ground.

“Easy, love,” he said. His voice was gruff and low. “I’m only here to make you an offer.”

The vampire didn’t make any more movements, but Bonnie didn’t drop her hands.

“Who are you,” she asked.

“My name is Enzo. Enzo St. John. But most know me as Enzo Salvatore.”

Bonnie couldn’t control the gasp that came from her. Salvatore was as well known as Mikaelson in London for all the wrong reasons. Rumor was, the vampire family’s founders, two brothers, had interfered with Klaus Mikaelson’s plans a century ago. No one knew the details, but they knew you did not get involved with the Salvatores without making an enemy of the Mikaelsons.

"I couldn't help but overhear you at the opera the other night. You're looking for work, and I happen to know a vampire in need of a witch. He's prepared to meet any demands you might have, as long as you sign your magic to him," Enzo said when Bonnie made no move to interrupt him. He lowered his hands, dusting off his trousers. "This vampire is an arse, but I guarantee he will be a better master than any of the fools who will come knocking at your door once the word spreads."

Bonnie lowered her arms, taken by surprise. She had not used a privacy spell during her conversation with Davina. That was her mistake. Still, she hadn’t imagined anyone would seek her out so soon. She hadn’t even decided if she was putting herself on the market. To become what Enzo was saying, to take a vampire as a master and sign away her magic would be to become shunned by the rest of the witches. She would be no better than a Vicki Donovan flaunting her bosom in the streets.

But there was Grams. She could give her everything she ever deserved. She could make sure she lived for many years to come and died comfortably in luxury. She could her the security the Bennets never had.

“I need time,” Bonnie replied after breaking from her thoughts.

Enzo nodded.

“You have twenty-four hours,” he said.

“I need more,” Bonne demanded. Enzo shook his head.

“Twenty-four is all we can give you. Mr. Salvatore’s… _interests_ cannot wait. I will send a carriage for you at this time tomorrow night. If you accept, step in it and it will take you to the Salvatore manor,” Enzo said. He cracked his neck, rubbing it with the back of his hand. “As much as I enjoyed being thrown into a wall, I best be going. It was a pleasure to meet you, love. I hope to see you tomorrow.”

With those last words, Enzo sped off into the night. Bonnie stayed in the alley, feeling the cold breeze against her skin. Twenty-four hours. So much good be done in twenty-four hours, and yet she knew one decision would eat up all that time. Possibly Twenty-four hours of freedom before a lifetime in chains.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who has responded to this story! Please let me know what characters you would like to see moving forward. I am open to all suggestions! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)


	3. The Masters of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So excited to have received such kind feedback for this story! I'm sorry if the build-up is still a little slow. I'm not used to having so many characters involved and such a large over-arching plot. I hope a sprinkle of Klaroline will help make up for this. :)
> 
> Enjoy.

Enzo picked up a pretty brunette on his way back to Salvatore Manor. All of the witchy business had left him starving.

The girl had been on the streets. A rather popular piece by the looks of it. He had promised to give her twice whatever her highest offer was for the night. The number she gave him was far too high, but he was feeling generous.

"Not here," he said when she tried to lead him inside her Bawd’s house. He hated the thick fumes of incense and poppy that permeated whore houses. He liked to keep his night out’s as classy as possible and preserve whatever dignity he had left. “You will come spend the night with me in my rooms.”

He thought he would have to compel her. Harlots were smart girls. You had to be to survive in such a line of work. To go to a man’s house would be to give up the safety of your pimp’s domain. Murder was always a risk. But the girl looked at his fine clothing and greeted him with an eager smile as he led her into his carriage.

“I am in the market for a keeper,” she whispered in her ear when they were in the carriage. “If I please you tonight, will you take me?”

Ah. So she wasn’t stupid. She was simply desperate. As she pushed her body into his Enzo appraised her. She was a pretty girl, too pretty for the streets for sure. But such was the time they lived in.

“What’s your name?” he asked her as her lips fell mere centimeters from his own.

“For the price you are paying, you can call me whatever you like, but most know me as Vicki. Victoria, for a fine gentleman like yourself.”

Enzo chuckled, grabbing her wrist and lifting it to his mouth.

“Well, Victoria,” he purred, his eyes beginning to turn red as fangs protruded over his lips. “Let’s see if you taste as good as you look.”

 

* * *

 

When they arrived at Salvatore Manor, Vicki was pale. He had to compel her to keep her quiet. Enzo wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and carelessly stepped down from the carriage.

“Get her a vial of my blood from the stores and bring her back to my room,” Enzo said to one of the servants, some compelled mortal they had picked up somewhere. “Make sure she is properly cared for until I return.”

The servant nodded and Enzo entered the building.

The Salvatore estate was what the exceedingly wealthy liked to call a "humble home." It lacked the outward glamor and lavish charm of the Mikaelson home but was nothing to scoff at. It had three floors and plenty of rooms for the inhabitants to brood inside of—an activity most of them partook in quite often. But Enzo knew that the person he was looking for would not be shut away tonight. Not with the news that had recently reached them.

Damon Salvatore sat in the middle of the parlor room looking positively murderous as he reread the letter he had received from his brother just that morning.

“Listen to this,” Damond said as Enzo entered, not bothering to look up at him. “Dear brother. I know that you will not agree with the course of action I have chosen to take, but it is not on good conscience that I could ignore the situation.”

Damon scoffed, holding the letter out to Enzo with a grimace. Enzo took it from him.

“Since when do vampires have a conscience?” mumbled Enzo. Damon took a swig of bourbon. Enzo noticed the bottle, one that had been full and stored away for a number of years, was almost empty.

“No one actually has a conscience. Only the Stefans of the world who think they are somehow deserving of punishment, forgetting that punishment extends to their family. Yet no one would ever call him selfish,” said Damon with a scowl. He looked at Enzo as if seeing him for the first time. “Did you get my witch?

Enzo sat next to Damon, taking a glass of bourbon for himself.

“I believe so. She has twelve hours to make her decision, but I have faith she’ll come,” Enzo said. He frowned, rubbing at his neck. “You didn’t say she was likely to attack. Nearly got my brain fried, mate.”

Damon snorted.

“What did you expect her to do? Run up and hug you? She’s a Bennet witch. Of course, she was going to attack. That's why I didn't go talk to her myself," Damon smirked.

“Are you sure we need her?” asked Enzo, his voice turning serious. He held up the letter. “We’ve managed before without a witch, and with Rose and Lexi we could hold our own.”

“We could hold our own against chumps and baby vamps with a knack for stupid decisions,” said Damon. “Not the originals. We already stole Klaus’ doppelganger once, and now Stefan was stupid enough to do it again. We're not just going to need a witch if we want to survive. We are going to need a shit ton of luck."

Damon was staring at the nearly empty bottle of bourbon, dangling the glass from his fingertips as he stared at in thought.

“His choice might very well kill us all,” said Damon. He let out a long sigh. “But he’s family.”

“Family,” Enzo repeated. He clapped Damon on the back. “Shame our family makes such stupid choices.”

Damon snorted, but Enzo could see the weight his friend carried. He could see in Damon’s blue eyes that he was envisioning all that could possibly happen to them in the coming weeks and all that they were putting at risk.

“No man left behind,” Enzo said quietly. “Isn’t that the Salvatore way?”

Damon’s lip turned upwards, but there was no smirk on his face. He lifted his glass to Enzo.

“To no man left behind,” he said.

“To family,” Enzo echoed.

Their glasses clinked. The Salvatores were about to face a war, but for the night they drank.

 

* * *

           

Despite the events of the night before, life moved on, and Bonnie Bennet was determined to move on with it.

Early in the morning, she went to the market. She kissed her sleeping Grams’ forehead before sneaking out, careful to avoid any alleyways.

Bonnie had always been good at making decisions. She was known for her excellent judgment, but she had never dealt with vampires. The witches in London were careful to make their streets as vampire-free as possible. Sure, they walked around amongst the living. Those who managed to find a pretty witch to seduce managed to get daylight rings and live normal lives amongst their mortal peers. Well, as normal as a healthy diet of blood could make a person. Others stalked the nights, leaving blood-drained harlots in the middle of streets. No good could come of vampires.

“Six shillings,” the witch, Sophie, said behind her booth, sending daggers at Bonnie. Sophie was one of the cheapest herb sellers in London and a family acquaintance.

“It was three yesterday,” argued Bonnie.

“Well, it's six today," the witch said. She took the herbs that were in her outstretched hand, put them back in the pouch, and pulled them out of Bonnie’s reach.

“What is your problem?” Bonnie asked. She couldn’t remember doing anything to insult the girl. Sophie had always been finicky, but she had never been unfair.

Sophie glared.

“Sorry, I don’t give discounts to whores who make deals with vampires.”

 Bonnie was about to respond, but a new voice interrupted her.

“Now, Sophie. Do you always have to be such a bitch?”

Cassie, another witch, one younger than both Bonnie and Sophie, appeared at Bonnie’s side. Bonnie was surprised to see Sophie stiffen. The young witch held out a small sack of coins and threw it at Sophie.

“I believe that should be enough to cover what Miss Bennet needs,” Cassie said.

Sophie reluctantly handed Bonnie the herbs. Cassie held out her arm. Bonnie took it, confused by the exchange but feeling as she had no choice but to follow the younger witch’s lead, and the two began to stroll the streets.

Bonnie never knew Cassie very well. She had always been closer to Davina then herself as they had been a part of the same coven. From what Bonnie had gathered, the girl was kind enough but a little timid. She did not seem timid now. She walked with an air of grace about her that seemed foreign. It made Bonnie uneasy.

“Don’t pay too much mind to Sophie,” said Cassie. “She’s always listened too closely to gossip.”

“Oh?” asked Bonnie, on her guard for reasons she did not know. “And what gossip might you be listening to?”

“We know you’ve met with Davina,” Cassie said. “You weren’t exactly clever about keeping yourself discreet.”

Bonnie kept her features controlled. She did not know what Cassie could possibly want, but she had a feeling there were others watching their interaction.

“That’s because I didn’t care to keep it hidden,” Bonnie defended. She thought it best to get straight to the point. “What is it you want with me, Cassie?”

Cassie gave a small smirk. It didn’t look right against her features.

“You were always a pragmatist. Very rational. That’s why our coven always wanted the Bennets,” Cassie mused. Her grip grew tighter on Bonnie’s arm.

“Davina Claire was selfish and stupid. She couldn’t do what her coven asked of her and she ran from it. Now she is paying a price far greater than what we could have ever done to her. But you, Bonnie, are not stupid. I suggest you don’t prove yourself to be as selfish as that harlot.”

Bonnie’s anger flared. She released her hold on Cassie and backed away from her.

“You think I would do this out of selfishness?” Bonnie hissed, unable to believe what the younger girl was saying.

 Cassie folded her hands in front of her, still perfectly composed. If Bonnie didn’t know any better, she would have she was amused.

 “Just be careful of your choices,” Cassie said. She began walking once more, her lips lacing into a final smirk. “We’ll be watching.”

Bonnie watched her walk away, clutching the herbs tightly in her palms, one word playing over and over in her head.

_Selfish._

 

* * *

 

Caroline Forbes was annoyed, not an uncommon emotion for a woman living in a society that left women bored and purposeless. She was annoyed about a lot of things. Her father was off running across Europe with some smarmy duke. Her mother was far less interested in her daughter’s marriage prospects then she was about keeping her away from any possible danger London had to offer. The only danger that Caroline felt she was in was of dying an old maid.

“Miss Forbes?”

The door of the cobbler shop opened, and Caroline looked up, ready to send whoever it was away. She was too annoyed to deal with the company of gentle-willed store owning men looking for a pretty bride. Caroline knew her worth. She just needed someone else to recognize it.

Joshua stood at the doorway, looking sheepish as he smiled at her. Caroline instantly wished she had worn her blue dress, it made her look more mature than the pink smock she had on. She knew it didn’t matter much what she wore for the boy. He would never be interested in her as a romantic partner. Caroline didn’t want his romance. She wanted his name so she could create her own future, one that didn’t involve a life of mending other people’s drawers.

“Mr. Rosza, I was not expecting you. Do you have another jacket you would like fixed?” said Caroline, struggling to hide the eagerness in her voice She moved away from the front desk to meet him with an adoring smile and innocent touch her hands to his. Men could be clueless, and she needed to make sure her interests were known.

“Actually, I could use some help getting some stains out of this collar,” Joshua said. He held out a shirt to her. Caroline took it, her smile faltering. There was only one thing worse than mending clothes, and that was cleaning them. Caroline inspected the stain, her nose wrinkling.

“Is this blood?” she asked.

Josh shrugged, looking embarrassed.

“It’s just from a cut, nothing to worry about,” he said.

Caroline pursed her lips.

“O-kay,” she said, stressing out the vowel sound. She busied herself with folding the shirt on the table. Her mom would have something to get the blood out, and if she didn’t Caroline would just find a new shirt to replace it.

“How long have you been friends with Davina?” Josh asked, referring to the fact she had given him a note for the girl just the other day. Caroline turned to him in surprise.

Davina Claire’s and Caroline Forbes’ lives had only intertwined briefly. The younger girl had accompanied Caroline and Bonnie on numerous occasions. Caroline had always liked her. She was a clever girl with a kind heart. She always had more tact than Caroline did, able to keep her wit on a tighter leash. She had always been a little envious of her too. She was beautiful in all of the subtle ways Caroline was not. Bonnie might be Caroline’s best friend, but Caroline knew that Davina and her had secrets that Caroline would never know. She had caught them whispering to each other in fast, hushed voices behind closed doors.

And then Davina left.

There was no warning. No hints or subtle clues. Davina Claire disappeared only to be seen the next day on the arm of Lord Klaus Mikaelson. She had become a Harlot.

Caroline didn’t know if she was disgusted or made jealous by the girl’s choice.

“We grew up together,” Caroline said, not sure how she wanted to answer the question. “We aren’t exactly friends.”

Josh’s face fell.

“That’s a shame. I was hoping Davina had some other friends. The Mikaelson’s aren’t always cheery company,” said Josh.

“You’re friends with Davina?” Caroline asked, raising her brows. “Davina Claire?”

Josh nodded.

“She’s my best friend. I was going to invite you to come see her as a surprise. Things are a little tense at the manor, and I’m sure she would appreciate a kind face” he said. He gestured towards the door where his carriage waited outside. “It was nice to see you, Miss Caroline.”

Before he could take another step, Caroline extended her hand to catch his. It wasn’t exactly proper, but Caroline’s mind was reeling.

“Wait!” she said. She took a breath to gain her composure. She gave her most charming smile. “When I said we weren’t exactly friends, it’s because we’re more than that. Practically sisters. I would love to see her.”

Joshua cocked his head to the side, clearly taken aback by the sudden change. Before he could open his mouth to say anymore, Caroline brushed past him and headed towards the carriage.

“Shall we?”

* * *

“Tell me, Rebekah, how difficult must your life be right now having to decide whether or not to have gardenias or chrysanthemums at your little party? I surely cannot envy what it must be like to be in such a position.”

Klaus smirked at his sister who stopped barking at one of the servants long enough to shoot him an annoyed glare. At the center of the Mikaelson’s ballroom, Rebekah looked like the perfect shadow of their mother. Beautiful, regal, and completely in charge. Fortunately for her, she had a hoard of brothers to remind her just how out of control she really was.

“What do you want, Nick?” Rebekah huffed, clearly not wishing to put up with his shenanigans.

“Well, seeing as I am stuck waiting for a boat to dock and release my doppelganger, I figured I might as well spend my valuable time helping you through the ball of the century.” Klaus gestured around the room. “Clearly this is a daunting task.”

"May I remind you that this party helps protect our family," Rebekah hissed. "If you don't believe me, believe Elijah. He's the one who insists I throw it every year."

“Seeing as my brother is the one who convinced me it was best to let my first doppelganger willingly complete the ritual, I have little trust in his judgment,” Klaus countered.

“Would it really kill you to try and not act like a total arse during the dance?” Rebekah said. “You could always bring a date.”

“Now Rebekah, I have the lovely Davina to wear on my arm.”

Rebekah gave him a curious look.

“Really? Not going to parade around your Petrova doppelganger?”

Klaus chuckled.

“Ah,” he breathed. “See, I have learned from my mistakes, sister. Doppelganger gets locked away until the next full moon once she arrives in London. Not taking any risks this time.”

“Yes, because we all know how you feel about risks,” Rebekah scolded bitterly.

Klaus ignored her.

“What about you?” he asked. “Convince Marcel to save you a dance?”

Rebekah’s lips puckered tighter. She suddenly looked more interested in the floor.

“Marcel is a bore at a party,” his sister said, although Klaus suspected she was avoiding some truth.

He was about to let out another retort, loving to see his sister get all riled up when something stopped him. A new voice.

_“Miss Forbes, I must insist you don’t go that way!”_

_“Come now, Joshua, I only want to look.”_

Rebekah and Klaus turned towards the ballroom entrance to stare at the newcomers before they even reach the entryway. An exceedingly pretty young woman walked through, followed by a very anxious looking Joshua Rosza. The girl stopped when she saw the Mikaelson siblings.

“Lord Mikaelson,” Josh said. “We were uh, what I mean is…”

The young man scratched the back of his neck, clearly already anticipating it being snapped off his body, but Klaus paid him no mind. He was too entranced by the blonde beauty gazing back at him with a mix of curiosity and wonder.

“Joshua,” said Klaus, still not looking at the boy. “Don’t be so rude. Please, introduce us to your friend.”

Rebekah gave Klaus a sideways glance, clearly unsure of what her brother was up to, but she was smart enough to stay out of it.

“I’m going to go talk to the maids about polishing the floors before Friday. Don’t get them dirty while I’m gone.”

Rebekah sent a pointed look in Klaus' direction, warning him not to drop any blood, but Klaus' thoughts were nowhere near on how he was going to get his next snack.

Josh coughed as the sound of Rebekah’s heels hitting the ground began to fade away. Caroline and Klaus continued to stare at one another.

My name is Caroline,” the girl said. She gave a small bow, looking no less than a princess. “Caroline Forbes.”

Klaus never paid much attention to women. His brothers often joked that he must be interested in men with how little attention he paid to the ladies. Usually, those conversations ended with a snapped neck (and it wasn't his). Women had seemingly regressed since his time. They were taught to be docile and quiet. They simpered and batted their lashes and filled their brains with the latest fashions and gossip. There was nothing wrong with these things, except for when they became the only topics of conversation. Caroline’s forwardness in introducing himself intrigued him just as much as her pretty face.

Klaus stepped forward and took Caroline’s hand, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“I invited her to see, Davina,” explained a still nervous looking Josh. “They’re friends.”

Klaus could tell from the way Caroline’s heart beat slightly faster that was probably untrue. He gave her a small smile, and he surprised how unsmirk-like it felt.

“Well then, my apologies love. She isn’t feeling well. Can’t accept visitors at the moment.”

Truth was, Klaus had forbidden Davina from leaving her room while she went over the proper steps necessary to break the hybrid curse. He didn’t want anyone to bother her. That included a certain younger brother of his who had not been happy that Klaus told him he was forbidden from seeing her. The last thing Klaus needed was his witch to be unprepared because Kol’s tongue distracted her from her duties.

“That’s a shame,” Caroline said. Klaus still held her hand in his. She didn’t pull away.

Josh clearly did not know what to do in this situation. He shuffled his feet underneath him.

Unfortunately, Klaus did not have time to play with a mortal girl—no matter how pretty she might be. Shame. Perhaps once his doppelganger business was finished he could see if her mind was as beautiful as her lovely face.

“Yes, well. I must go see to my sister. Planning a party. Poor thing is running herself ragged, Joshua, please tell me you plan to invite Miss Forbes to the ball this Friday,” Klaus looked at Josh for the first time, staring holes into his head as he smirked. “My sister assures me it will be the party of the century.”

Caroline turned to look at Josh, who had no option but to follow Klaus. He might work for Marcel, but he knew the consequences of going against the strongest Mikaelson.

“I was just about to ask her to be my date,” Josh said through clenched teeth, looking awkward as he gave Caroline a forced smile.

The girl’s eyes lingered on Klaus. And for a moment, Klaus thought it he had a heart it might have sped up. Just for a moment.

“I would love to,” Caroline said, meeting Klaus’ eyes one last time before turning back to Josh.

Klaus’ smirk stayed on his face as he watched them leave. Perhaps Rebekah’s ball wouldn’t be so tiresome after all.

 

* * *

 

Bonnie stroked her Grams’ cheek with a damp cloth, and old woman let out a relaxed breath and Bonnie smiled at her.

She was still seething from her conversation with Cassie. She felt filthy, even though she had yet to outwardly break any of the witches’ rules. It was the word that Cassie used. Selfish. She couldn’t understand it.

Bonnie still had yet to make her decision. Enzo’s words rang in her ears on repeat. Over and over she imagined the vampire’s face as he told her his offer and the time limit that came with it. He was the answer to her problems. But it wasn’t the answer that Bonnie wanted.

“What’s troubling you, sweet child? A girl your age shouldn’t look so serious. Not even when she is a serious witch.” said Shelia Bennet. The old woman took her granddaughter's hand in her own. "Don't tell me those coven witches are already trying to recruit you. Not a foot in the grave and they already go after my flesh and blood."

Bonnie forced a smile. Shelia’s eyes might be tired, but they were still wise. She wondered if her Grams really wondered if the witches were after her, or if she already knew what Bonnie had been offered.

“No covens have knocked on my door. I think you convinced them not to mess with Bennet witches a long time ago,” Bonnie said, honestly.

Shelia let out a laugh that quickly turned into a cough. Bonnie lifted a glass of water to her grandmother’s lips and helped support her as she took long sips.

"Grams,” Bonnie whispered when she was done. She sat in front of her on the bed so she could look her in the eyes. “What do you think is the price of security?”

“In our time and with our class? Always too high," Shelia said without a moment's pause. "What price are you being offered to pay?"

“A high one,” said Bonnie. She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t know how.

No witch liked a vampire. Coven or not, the vampires were unnatural beings. They destroyed when a witch’s job was to create. Worse, they challenged the power of the witches, and there was nothing more a witch liked than his or her own power.

“I see,” said Shelia. Her smile had disappeared, but she didn’t look disappointed or angry.

“Are you going to try to dissuade me?” asked Bonnie, suddenly wishing she could tell what her grandmother was thinking even if her thoughts were filled with disapproval. “Because Grams, I can save you. I can give you the life you deserve, and don’t try to tell me that you are too old or don’t need me to help you. I love you, Grams. I want to help you.”

Shelia shook her head. She took Bonnie’s hand in her own and squeezed it tight.

“Oh sweet child,” Grams said. “Don’t pretend that you’re doing this for me.”

Bonnie stared at her grandmother in shock.

“Grams, what--?”

“Now I know, baby girl, you love me. You want me to live. But you know I’ve already lived life,” Grams said. “No, this offer that’s been made. Oh, yes, I know there has been an offer. This is about what will become of your life when I’m gone.”

Bonnie opened her mouth to protest but no words came out. Her hands began to shake, and she couldn’t stop the tears that began to fall down her face. Grams always said tears made a woman strong. Bonnie didn’t feel strong.

“I’m scared,” Bonnie said. “It’s always been you and me, Grams. What’s going happen to me when you’re gone?”

Shelia Bennet scooted closer. She grabbed her granddaughter’s face in her hands.

“What’s going to happen, what will happen, that’s going to be up to you. You are strong, Bonnie Bennet. The strongest woman I’ve ever seen. No one is going to master your fate but you.”

Shelia let out another cough and Bonnie hugged her close.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.

“You’ll never lose me,” Grams said. “I’ll always be there. No matter what you decide. I’ll be there. Remember that, Bonnie.”

Bonnie let her tears dry on her Grams’ shoulder. The two women held each other tight. Bonnie made her decision. It was selfish, she realized that now. But time was short for a witch. Shelia Bennet always knew that. It was time Bonnie learned.

 

* * *

 

The carriage pulled up exactly twenty-four hours after Enzo had met Bonnie. Finn watched the girl enter it from one of the upper-level apartments, eye trailing the carriage until it was out of his sight.

“You convinced her,” he said, looking over his shoulder. The witch, Cassie, sat on the love seat. She held a book of spells, reading them to herself. Her eyes didn’t look up as she spoke to the oldest of the Original siblings.

“I merely pushed her,” she said. “I think her mind was already made up.”

“How long do you think it will take?” asked Finn. Cassie closed her book. She got up and went over to the vampire, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Don’t worry son,” she said. Her eyes glinted. “It won’t be long now.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get excited, because next is a Bamon interaction! It will certainly be interesting. ;)
> 
> I want to clarify that Caroline is very much season 1 Caroline at this time. She hasn't turned, and she is very attracted to the lifestyle of the upper class. Klaus has yet to reveal his inner (and often outer) jerk, and therefore I expected her to be attracted to him much like she was Damon in season 1. As the story progresses, Caroline will become a much bigger presence. 
> 
> Please let me know what y'all think! I'm always happy to hear suggestions.


	4. The Salvatore Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks so much for all of the feedback. I am having a blast writing this story, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it. Finally, we have a Bamon interaction! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

Damon looked at the empty bottle bourbon on his desk with a scowl, completely oblivious to the beautiful vampire woman spreading kisses down his neck. They were in the study, waiting for their new witch to arrive.

“You need to relax,” Rose chastised, her hands running down the sides of his legs. She straddled his lap, barely clothed. If it had been any other night, Damon would have been more than pleased that his friend was in such a good mood. His little Rosebud had quite the temperament, and although she was also keen to listen to his problems, she wasn’t always in the mood to ravish him. 

“I am relaxed,” said Damon, giving her his signature sideways smirk. Rose dug her hips into him, but Damon didn’t even react.

“No, you’re a liar,” said Rose. She scoffed, annoyed with Damon’s lack of interest, and climbed off him. She began to pick up the clothes she had undone in her hurry to find release. “If you don’t talk to me I’ll send you to Lexi. You know how she loves to help struggling souls.” 

Damon cringed. Lexi and Rose were, by vampire standards, Salvatores. Rose had been the first to join Damon and Stefan. She had come to them after the whole Katherine debacle with no one else to turn to. Lexi was a newer addition to the family. She had joined only a few years after returning a Ripper-esque Stefan back to London. Stefan swore he owed her his life. Damon found her annoying. 

“As much as I love using your ears as my own personal diary, I am perfectly fine at the moment,” Damon raised his eyebrows as he looked at the empty glass on the table. “Well, as fine as a man without bourbon can be. In a few minutes my witch will roll up and we’ll all be one step closer to pushing off our demise by the Mikaelsons’ hands.”

At the mention of Mikaelsons, Rose tensed. Elijah Mikaelson had killed her best friend, Trevor, nearly three hundred years ago after he had discovered Trevor was one of the reasons for the doppelganger’s escape.

“This witch, do you really think she’ll come?” asked Rose. She was just finishing lacing her own corset.

“Enzo seems sure, and I trust Enzo,” Damon replied.

He leaned back in his chair, not wanting to reveal the doubt that lingered in his mind. Damon did not know anything about Bonnie Bennet. Lexi had told him about her after she had overheard the girl speaking to none other than the Mikaelson witch. All he knew was that if she was anything like her cousin Emily, her magic would serve them well. He needed it to. There was no time to create a plan B. Stefan had already set their new fate in motion. Damon was just trying to keep his brother’s actions from destroying them all. 

“I don’t like the idea of an outsider coming in,” mumbled Rose. She moved towards the window, looking out at the grounds of the estate. It was dark. The sun would be up in only a handful of hours. If they didn’t have their witch by then, they were screwed.

"Yes, well, when you can suddenly perform a protection spell strong enough to hold off whatever powers that tiny little witch of Klaus' has, then we can talk about your opinions on getting a new roommate," said Damon, his tone serious despite the natural humor of his diction. He lifted his head towards the window as he heard the sound of hooves clomping on stone. As the sound closer, he listened intently, trying to figure out how many heartbeats were in the carriage He smirked as he realized there were two: one compelled driver and one new witch.

“Looks like Enzo was right,” Damon smirked. He got up to open the study door. “Now, if you don’t mind excusing yourself, I have lots to discuss with our new roomie.”

 

* * *

 

Bonnie Bennet didn't know what to expect when the carriage driver told her they had arrived at the Salvatore Manor. There were no gargoyles or burning fires from hell or chains dangling from the rafters. The estate looked normal, beautiful even, in a simple way. It was hard to imagine that it was to become Bonnie's new home.

“Miss Bennet, how lovely of you to come,” Enzo greeted her the moment she stepped off the carriage. He held out his hand, but Bonnie didn’t take it. Enzo smirked. “I see you are as charming as ever.”

Bonnie offered him a wry smile. Her heels echoed against the floor as she entered the manor, the walls a mix of dark browns and accented with warm reds. It made her feel like she was in the middle of a fire.

“Built only a few years ago, designed after the Salvatore’s original home in Italy. Of course, we have modernized. There are plenty of rooms on the second floor, one of which we have prepared for you. Everything you need will, of course, be provided along with any requests within reason," Enzo said, noticing Bonnie looking around the manor as he led them up the stairs. Bonnie noticed the myriad of servants running around. She knew they must be compelled, but they all looked relatively well off. 

She followed Enzo to the third floor where there were more rooms. Bonnie could not begin to imagine what they were for.

“This vampire I’m signing with, which Salvatore brother is he?” Bonnie asked, doing her best to keep up with the vampire despite her dress. She might not have as many layers on as an upper-class, but climbing so many stairs while trying not to trip on her long skirts was nothing short of a challenge. 

Enzo raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder. 

“Oh, so you are familiar with the Salvatore brothers?” Enzo asked. Bonnie nodded.

“I know they say Stefan is the fair one. The rational one with a good soul despite some mistakes in his past, and I know Damon is—“

“—the charming, irresistible, much better-looking one.”

A man opened a door for them, wearing the smuggest smirk Bonnie had ever seen. He was tall, with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. Bonnie’s first thought was that he looked handsome. Her second was that he looked like an asshole.

“So this the infamous Bonnie Bennet,” the man, who Bonnie could only assume was Damon Salvatore. He sat behind his desk, folding his hands in his lap and resting his feet against the wood. Bonnie’s immediate dislike for him grew.

Damon Salvatore was infamous around London for being quite the dandy. A socialite, he threw massive parties where unspeakable sins were whispered to happen. Mortal women awed the Salvatore fortune and dreamt about what it would be like to make the supposedly heartless Salvatore brother fall in love with them. Bonnie had no such fantasies. She knew there was murder behind that cocky grin. She just never imagined she would be close enough to see it for herself. 

“Where the contract?” Bonnie asked, wanting to get straight to business. 

Damon gestured to a simple piece of parchment laid out on the desk at his feet, a quill dipped in ink prepared by its side.

"There's no rush," said Damon, but after the words left his mouth her shrugged. His feet dropped the floor and he brought his hands to the desk. "Well, that's a lie. We have quite a bit of work to get done, but I figured you would want to read the paper before you signed your life away to it. Call me courteous.” 

Bonnie gave a small snort of disbelief. Hesitantly, she picked up the parchment and looked over the contract. It was much more generous than she imagined it would be. The Salvatores promised to care for her living relatives and grant her living and board under the stipulation that they owned her magic. Her magic would slowly pay off what she owed the Salvatores for caring for her Grams, plus a small added debt of anything she requested during her time at the manor. Once that debt was paid, she would start making a small earning that could be used to buy herself out of her contract. Bonnie already knew it would take years to get to that point, but she was relieved that the Salvatores had at least given her a way out. She had not done a good job at hiding her desperation, and she was afraid that they would have taken advantage of her. Still, there were a few questions she had before she was willing to sign her name.

“Why do you want a witch?” Bonnie asked, daring to look the vampire in the eyes.

Damon looked a little taken aback by the question but quickly recomposed himself to his façade of uncaring.

"They're all the trend in London. A pretty little witch on my arm at parties, a couple of extravagant spells to entertain the guests. Got to keep up with the latest fashions, otherwise people will star accusing me of being as boring as my brother," Damon said. 

If Bonnie believed any of what Damon had said to be true, she would have felt much more hesitant to make the agreement. She could tell the Salvatore was hiding something. 

“But why now? The Mikaelsons have had their witch for a year now, and other vampire families followed shortly. You, however, just took an interest.” 

Damon leaned forward, his eyes looking at her suggestively.

“Ever think we were holding out for a beautiful Bennet?” he asked. Bonnie glared at him.

“Enzo said your _interests_ ,..” Bonnie stressed the word just as the vampire had the night before. “…Couldn’t wait. I think it is only fair I know what those interests are if I am going to be a part of them.”

Damon’s smirk fell. He looked at her, not flirtatiously, as he had before bur rather as if he was contemplating how much he really wanted to tell her. After a few more seconds, Damon let out a sigh.

“If you must know, my idiot younger brother. The one that you referred to as the fair one, has managed to let his moral compass lead this family in a potential predicament.”

Bonnie crossed her arms over her chest.

“What kind of predicament?”

"The kind that could lead with a hoard of Original vampires knocking on our door and ripping out our hearts. The kind that seems to be a staple for the Salvatores,” Damon said bitterly. “I could give you ever scrutinising detail to why the Mikaelsons want to kill us this time, but, as you reminded us, this deal is time sensitive, so I am just going to need you to sign over my right to your magic so we can complete a few spells before morning, and then we can go over the logistics of our current predicament.” 

Damon nudged the inkpot and quill over to Bonnie with his index finger, shooting a meaningful glance between it and the contract still in her hand.

“I just need to make certain of one thing,” Bonnie replied, not moving. “This deal we are making only applies to my magic. I am not obliged to give you anything else in return for my Grams’ safety.”

Bonnie was not surprised that Damon understood what she was implying immediately. The smirk that reappeared on his face told enough.

“Just magic,” he said. He leaned forward, giving her another suggestive look. “Anything else you wanted to give would be for free.”

Enzo began to cough, trying to hide a laugh. Bonnie rolled her eyes. 

“Believe me,” the witch said as she grabbed the quill. “That won’t be happening.” 

Damon shrugged but looked pleased as he watched her sign her name at the end of the paper. When Bonnie was finished, she handed it to him.

It wasn’t as hard as she thought, selling her soul. It was shockingly easy knowing that her Grams would be taken care of and that she would have a place to live. What was scary was the satisfaction on the vampire’s face as he reviewed her signature. 

“Looks like we have a deal, witchy,” said Damon. He put the contract down, piercing her with his blue eyes.

“Now what do you know about cloaking spells?

 

* * *

 

Marcel knocked on the witch’s door early in the morning. Davina Claire opened the door, fully dressed, with a smile on her face.

“Marcel!” she said, delighted to see the honorary original vampire. “What are you doing here? Klaus doesn’t want anyone to visit me until his doppelganger arrives.”

Marcel smiled back at the girl who had become like a daughter to him, grateful that despite everything she still looked at him with those bright, innocent eyes. Lord knew they were no longer as innocent as he wished, but Davina Claire had always been much wiser than people gave her credit for.

Klaus had sent him to investigate a ritual the witches were rumored to be completing. They didn’t know what it was, other than it would be happening in a cemetery (always a witch favorite) and that it was supposed to give the witches great power. Marcel didn’t expect to walk in on a sacrifice.

Davina was powerful. Very powerful. It both entranced and scared the witches. One witch could not be so gifted while the others floundered with their petty tricks behind her. Her own mother offered her to be sacrificed. Fuel to fire. The loss of one for the benefit of an entire coven. He heard her scream before he saw her.

The witches were leading her through the cemetery. They had her arms bound and a cloth over her mouth, but she fought with every ounce of her being. Marcel felt a connection to the girl immediately. He remembered his own fight as a young boy, and it only took him a matter of seconds to go and rip her captors' heads from their bodies. 

Klaus had not been pleased to hear the death count. A war with the witches was never on his agenda, but he had stopped his complaining when he realized what Marcel had unintentionally dropped in his lap. Davina became him, but Marcel stayed her protector. He could not fight everything as he had the witches, but he could fight some things

“Let me worry about Klaus,” Marcel said as he gave her a hug. They parted, and she let him into her room. He was pleased to see that she had made use of some the art supplies he had given her. She had done some beautiful sketches, some more morbid than others. He couldn't help but frown as he spotted Kol’s face among her work. He wanted to lecture her about the dangers of forming a relationship with one of his least favorite Mikaelson siblings, but he knew she wouldn’t listen.

He appraised Davina’s face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked thinner than she should.

“How have you been feeling, D?” he asked her.

Davina’s smile stayed intact, but Marcel knew her well. Over the past few weeks, she had grown fatigued. She blamed being overworked, but there was more than that. It worried him.

“Alright. A little tired from lack of sleep, but hopefully Klaus’ doppelganger remedy that. I must have gone over that spell no less than 500 times. I will be glad to be rid of it.” She gestured to a map on her desk, and Marcel could see there was a drop of blood. "One of Klaus' vampires found a relative of the girl in London. He's her Uncle, supposedly? I didn't ask. I've been tracking her all night. She should have docked by now."

Davina plopped down on her bed. By her bedside was a tray of food and tea. She took her teacup and lifted it to her mouth. 

“The new tea in the kitchens is good, although I doubt you want to discuss teacups,” Davina said. She placed the cup back on its tray.

“Believe it or not, I only came to check on you,” Marcel grinned, but the grin fell as Davina began to cough. “Fatigued?”

Davina stopped coughing. She got off the bed and went over to a collection of herbs and placed something in her mouth. Almost instantly she looked better. 

“We can figure out my cold after Klaus stops breathing down my neck,” said Davina, and Marcel knew she was going to be stubborn.

“Does Kol know about this?” asked Marcel.

“No,” Davina said. “And we are going to keep it that way.”

“D-“ Marcel started. He grabbed her hands. “You’ve had vampire blood in your system, if that isn’t helping you then something is wrong.”

Davina squeezed his hand. She was already looking better. He wondered how many times she that herb a day, what the consequences of it might be.

“I told you, it’s fatigue. Witches in my coven would get it after doing strenuous magic. If I bring it up, Klaus will only find a way to use it against me or decide I’m not worth protecting anymore. Once the Hybrid curse is broken, I can rest and I’ll be back to normal,” Davina explained. Marcel looked in her eyes and could tell she was saying the truth, but it still made him uneasy.

“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” said Marcel. “I promised that they day I met you, and I don't intend to break it now."

Davina smiled. She really was just a young girl. A young girl who could have stayed out of all of this darkness but was thrust into it by her own flesh and blood.

“Klaus is just wound up, he’ll calm down once this all is over,” Marcel said, trying to believe the words himself. “Despite what people say, I know he isn’t evil.”

Davina let go of his hands and sat back down. She took another sip of tea.

“Evil takes many forms,” Davina said. “Some told me Kol was evil. I saw he wasn’t. I know Klaus saved you just as you saved me, but that doesn’t mean I will ever remotely like him.”

Marcel chuckled. He was about to respond when a fierce yell shook the house.

“DAVINA!”

 

* * *

 

Elijah was growing rather tired of family meetings.

He and Rebekah stood behind their brother as he faced Davina and Marcel in the parlor, his body trembling with rage. The little witch stood tall, but even she showed a hint of worry as the Hybrid yelled. Marcel stood behind her, looking as though he was struggling to hold himself back.

“Where is she?” Klaus hissed. He stormed about the room, knocking down books and side tables as his family watch. “You said she would be there. I sent my men, and somehow she is gone before she even steps off the boat. And now you, the most powerful witch money can buy, are telling me you can’t find her?" 

He finished by yelling directly in Davina’s face, mere centimeters away from her.

Davina looked up at him, expressionless. 

“I tracked her. She was here. Whoever took he used a cloaking spell. A witch’s cloaking spell, done correctly is near impossible to break. I’m going to need time.”

Klaus let out a dry laugh and raised his hands in the air.

“Time? I have waited seven hundred years. I refuse to wait any longer.”

The hybrid raised his hand, about to strike the girl. Marcel and Rebekah made to move, and Elijah joined them, knowing what his brother’s anger could do. They were an aggressive lot by nature, but their hurry to come to the witch’s aid was in vain.

Davina raised her hand, and Klaus fell to his knees and gripped his head. Davina glared down at him, loathing rolling off of her like waves. 

“You may own my magic, but you have no right to my body,” Davina said, her voice unwavering. Klaus glared back at her under the force of her magic but seemed to realize her words were true. The anger in his gaze calmed, and for a second Elijah saw the brother he respected: the one who recognized the value in other human beings. 

Davina stopped her magic, and Klaus got on his knees. He took a deep breath. 

“What happened to the doppelganger?” Klaus said, his voice carefully controlled, but Elijah could tell he was going to snap. He stepped forward. He was only glad Kol had been sent to the docks to look for Elena, as he doubted his brother would be able to look over Klaus’ faux pas.

"If a witch is involved, then someone else must know of the doppelganger's existence," Elijah said, his voice far calmer than anyone else's' had been since Klaus had called them together. “My guess, seeing as the witches of London want nothing to do with our kind and our quarrels, is that a vampire is involved. To act rashly would be to fail, but fortunately we already have a plan in place to bring forth any vampire well-off enough to buy themselves some magic.”

Elijah looked over at Rebekah, who came forward in understanding.

“All the vampire families have been invited and reminded how unwise it is for them to not make an appearance. Naturally, those with witches will want to show off their prize. Anyone with a witch will immediately be suspect. Any family who doesn’t show up, also suspect. We can weed them out,” Rebekah explained. She smirked, crossing her gloved arms over her chest with smug satisfaction. “And you were complaining about the uselessness of my little party.”

Klaus looked thoughtful, though still perturbed. He turned to smirk back at his sister. 

“Looks like your excuse for an annual night of fairytale dresses and ambiance will be paying off sister,” He said. In a second his teasing voice was gone, and he was yelling once more. “I want everyone on the lookout. Spare no corner of London.”

Klaus turned back to Elijah, and Elijah could sense he was in for a long few days and many headaches.

“It looks like we have a party to plan.”

 

* * *

 

It had been a trying few weeks for Elena Gilbert. Between the death of her parents, the long voyage to London, and the constant reminders that an evil vampire wished to sacrifice her for some ancient ritual, Elena could use a moment to breathe. Unfortunately, the Salvatores seemed unwilling to give her one.

“Drink more,” said Bonnie, a pretty girl who had been running around since the moment Elena entered the Salvatore manor, asking for different herbs and books to be brought to her by the staff. She was a witch, according to the older Salvatore brother. “It will help make it hard for anyone to try and find your location through a body jumping spell.”

Elena did not know what kind of spell that was, but she drank the drink quickly. She sat on a loveseat next to Stefan. She wished the boy would leave her alone. He had been trailing her like a lost puppy since he met her back in Virginia.

Stefan found Elena two weeks after her parents had died. He explained to her everything he knew about Klaus, about the doppelganger line, about what her fate would be if she wasn’t careful. 

She had already known. She had known since she had boarded the boat to the colonies.

It was only after her Uncle John had left did Stefan and Elena hear rumor of someone bringing the news of her to Klaus. She thought hiding was a stupid idea. 

“I can fight him,” Elena said, looking at the faces of the people in the room. Behind Bonnie were two women, one blonde and one brunette. They looked older. Next to them was Damon, Stefan’s eldest who she found most distasteful, and an equally distasteful man she had heard one of the servants refer to as Enzo. “I’m trained. You guys don’t need to get involved in my mess.”

Damon let out a snort.

“Right, did we fail to mention the fact that this is an Original vampire? What are you, twelve? You wouldn’t last a second,” the older brother laughed. Elena narrowed her eyes. Damon was more annoying than his sibling. 

“What my brother means is,” Stefan quickly jumped in, and Elena didn’t miss the lovesick way he looked at her. “We have been involved in this affair for the last hundred years. We don’t want to see Klaus succeed, and us helping you is as much a service to us as it is you.”

Damon made a gagging sound. Elena looked at Bonnie. So far, she was the only person she trusted.

“What’s the plan here?” Elena asked her. “Surely it isn’t just to keep me locked here forever.”

“Don’t ask me,” said Bonnie, raising her hands in the air. “I’m just the magic girl. All I’ve been told is to keep you hidden.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little witchy and doppelganger heads," said Damon. He sent a pointed look towards his brother. "Once Bonnie can figure out a way to move you discretely out of London and we can find someone stupid enough to take you who is not related to me by blood, then you are free to go odd and live your life and be found by Klaus on your own time."

Elena glared at him, but she couldn’t find an argument. If what he said was true, he wanted to be as rid of her as she wanted to be rid of them.

“I want my brother,” she said, after a moments pause. “Jeremy Gilbert. He’s staying with Alaric Saltzman. If Klaus learns my name and that he’s here he will kill him.”

Damon shook his head, the two vampire women shot each other a glance. Enzo looked bored. 

“Do you think this is some type of inn?” Damon scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

Elena was going to threaten to walk out then and there, but Bonnie spoke before she could say anything.

“Let the price of his safety be added to my debt,” said Bonnie, getting up. She looked at the vampire, and Elena wondered if there was something there, but dismissed it. 

Damon glared at her. Bonnie glared back. After a moment of silence, he caved.

“Fine,” Damon said. He waved a hand.

Elena gave Bonnie a curious look.

“Debt?” she asked. She looked at the girl’s fine clothes and at Damon and realization dawned on her. 

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were…”

Bonnie shook her head. 

“Only magic,” she clarified, and Elena was ashamed that she released a breath of relief. 

“Any other demands?” grumbled Damon, unfazed by Elena’s false judgment.

Elena shot him a glare. There was a sound of a loud knock, and everyone stood still. Damon groaned. 

“Don’t move,” he said, waving a finger at her. He walked out of the room, Stefan following him. They came back a few minutes later, a small envelope in their hands.

Damon presented it to Bonnie. Elena got up to read over the girl’s shoulder.

 

_YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO A NIGHT OF DANCING AND ENTERTAINMENT_

_THE MIKAELSON BALL BEGINS AT 8:00 PM FRIDAY NIGHT_

_DATES ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED_

_REFRESHMENTS WILL BE PROVIDED_

 

Damon scowled.

“Speak of the devil and he invites you over for drinks.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think. I am open to all and any suggestions. Also, let me know if there are any other stories you would like to see from me. :)


	5. The Enchanting Presentation

Sleeping was a surprisingly hard activity in the Salvatore house, which was surprising given that the brother’s had supplied Bonnie with the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on. She had been in the house not even twenty-four hours, and she was already feeling homesick. She missed her Grams and the filthy streets. She missed the other witches who would greet her hello as she passed them, the small customs of politeness. She missed her Grams.

The day had flown by. Managing to produce numerous cloaking spells, one while the people involved were across town and on the move, was nearly impossible. Bonnie suspected Damon knew that when he called for her. He must truly have been desperate, for there was no guarantee that it would have worked. He seemed very impressed with her skill, but that did not stop him from acting like a complete and utter arse. After one spell request came another, and another, and another. Bonnie was just grateful he had given her the morning to rest while the prepared their stories for the evening to come. Bonnie could not say she was looking forward to it.

Her room was too suffocating and full of too many nice things. Every time she saw a jewel or a fancy dress she felt a little sick to her stomach. She was doing the worst thing a witch could do, giving away her magic in exchange for coin. She was not better than a harlot.

The worst part was that she knew she should feel guilty, but she did not.

So Bonnie found herself roaming the Salvatore manor until she stumbled upon the library tucked in the corner of the east wing. She found solace in the books. She had never been much of a reader, but that was mainly because books were expensive and hard to acquire. She liked the idea that even if she was stuck behind walls for the rest of her life, she could explore the world through the pages of literature. She had just picked up a copy of _Gulliver’s Travels_ when she heard the steps of someone approaching. She hastened to put the book back but stopped when she spotted Jeremy Gilbert in the doorway.

He stared at her as if she was a ghost. Enzo had brought him over a couple hours after Bonnie’s request. Bonnie had been avoiding him.

“I was looking for you,” Jeremy said, his hand awkwardly going into his trouser pocket. He looked at her. She was wearing one of the fancy dresses the Salvatore’s had given her. Jeremy looked as awkward as she felt.

“How are you doing?” Bonnie asked. The distance between them was strange. Foreign.

The corner of Jeremy’s lip lifted upwards in a tired smile. He rubbed the back of his head, messing his already ruffled locks.

“Well I just found out that my sister is the world’s most wanted doppelganger and that my best friend is a witch,” Jeremy said. He let out a chuckle. “Oh, and did I mention there were also vampires involved?”

“I might have heard about that,” replied Bonnie, feeling lighter as she let out the small joke. Jeremy smiled back at her. He took a few tentative steps forward. When he reached her, he made to hug her and Bonnie immediately returned it. She let out a long breath. After a moment, they parted.

“How long have you been a..?” Jeremy looked at her as if hoping she would supply the right word.

“Witch? Since birth,” Bonnie replied. She raised her brows at him. “Mistress? Since yesterday.”

Jeremy’s face flushed. Bonnie could only imagine what that word implied to him, but she didn’t have it in her to correct him. If he thought so little of her to think she would give her body to any man for some coin, he clearly did not know her as well as she always hoped.

“Now isn’t this charming.”

Bonnie and Jeremy turned to see Damon walking into the room, his smirk sickening as he looked between the two of them.

“A little library romance. You’ll have to be more careful, baby Gilbert. I won’t always take too kindly to you canoodling with my date.” He stopped in front of Jeremy, putting a hand on his shoulder in a way that would normally seem brotherly, but came off as aggressive. “ But, it seems like everybody in this house, but myself, is determined to keep your doppelganger sister happy. Only lord knows why. Personally, I don’t really care, but I suggest you go back to your room and stay there until I figure out how you can do something useful.”

The look the vampire gave Jeremy left no room for argument. Jeremy gave Damon a cold stare. He shrugged his shoulder away from the older man’s hand and walked out, giving one last look to Bonnie. Bonnie watched him go, before fixing a glare at her new master.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked. Damon shrugged.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt a moment?” Damon asked, feigning regret. His smirk returned as quickly as it left. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“And what would you know about that?” Bonnie asked, annoyed.

“I know he’s a boy,” Damon started. He walked closer to her until he was right in front of her. Bonnie had to look up to meet his gaze, something she never had to do with Jeremy. “A mortal one at that. I know you are a witch, a rather attractive one, if I do say so myself.”

 He leaned in. His eyes were playful. Bonnie could feel his breath against her face.

“A girl like you belongs with a man,” Damon continued.

Bonnie kept her glare.

“Like you?” she asked.

“If you wanted,” Damon whispered. His hand cupped her cheek. Bonnie pushed it away and walked over to the bookshelves, determined to look at the spines.

“Not going to happen,” Bonnie said. She collected _Gulliver’s Travels_ from where she had placed it, along with a few other novels and plays that caught her attention.

Damon did not seem bothered by her rejection. If anything he looked amused.

“Did you want something?” Bonnie asked, resting the pile of books on her hip. The vampire sat in one of the empty seats, watching her.

“Just wanted to make sure you were prepared for tonight,” Damon said loftily. He looked at the books on her hip and then pointed to one of the shelves. “If you have Shakespeare you should pick up some Moliere.”

Bonnie skeptically went to the bookshelf Damon pointed at and shuffled through the books.

“What’s there to be prepared for?” Bonnie asked as her fingers grazed the spines. “A ball full of evil and entitled vampires? Sounds like a typical Friday night.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said Damon. “Because we are going to need to make everything seem as normal as possible if we don’t want Klaus personally ripping off our heads before they begin the first waltz.”

Bonnie turned to eye the vampire. His gaze had become serious. He was staring out the window. Although his eyes looked out at the property, Bonnie could tell his mind was far away from how green the shrubbery looked.

“What is the deal with this ball,” Bonnie asked.

“It started only fifty years ago,” Damon replied. “Klaus and his family throw it every year, inviting the most prominent vampire families to come. It’s supposed to be a token of peace, a reminder that we can all be civil to one another. It’s really a way for everyone to show off and establish their power in the community. Any family wealthy enough to have a witch will wear her on their arm, bonus points if she’s nice to look at.”

Damon shot her a look and Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“I did not sign your contract to become a trinket to be paraded around,” Bonnie said.

“Well, I didn’t sign up to take in some refugee doppelganger, but fate had other plans,” Damon countered. He got up, heading towards the door.

“We’ll leave around 7:00,” he said. He paused, turning to look back at her with his annoying smirk. Bonnie wanted to hex him. “Make sure to wear something pretty.”

 

* * *

 

Rebekah closed her eyes as one of the servants applied more powder to her face. She sat in her room, one of the most lavish corners of the manor. She was dressed to the nines. She had the gown custom made by her favorite French designer, a rare lilac died silk that was sure to stand out amongst the crowd. When it came to her family, Rebekah was left little of her own. The ball, despite what Elijah told Nick, was for her and her alone. Sure, alliances were secured along the way, but the party was Rebekah’s chance to be a normal girl for a night. A princess in a castle full of murderers, bloodsuckers, and witches who all would rather see them dead. It was a bloody kingdom, but a kingdom nonetheless.

“That will be all, Mary,” Rebekah said as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her beautiful blonde lock had been piled high on her head, no wig needed. Her cheeks were as rosy as a virgin maiden, and her lips juicy like the pomegranate used to chain Persephone to the underworld. Rebekah didn’t need a pomegranate to take her to hell. She was born into Hell.

“You can come in Marcel,” Rebekah called once the maid left. The handsome vampire walked into the room, hands behind his back as he approached her.

“You’re talking to me again?” Marcel asked. He stood beside her as she sat at her vanity.

His hand found the diamond necklace she had yet to put on. He held it in front of his face, a small smile forming on his features as he rubbed his finger along the silver chain. “I gave this to you two hundred years ago. I believe last you told me you threw it in the ocean. Seems like you found it again.”

Marcel looked back up at her, clearly gloating over the situation. Rebekah flushed, and it had nothing to do with maidenhood or the rogue on her cheeks. Marcel was Rebekah’s one true love. Klaus had found him a hundred years after they had turned. He had been a boy then, but Rebekah fell in love with the man he became. She had never met anyone so just or strong. Unlike her family who fought for selfishness and elicited fear, Marcel fought for justice and lead with respect. He was also the first person to love her as much as she loved him.

Klaus couldn’t stand it. He daggered her the first time he heard of their romance. She woke up fifty years later under the stipulation that Klaus never hear of their names whispered again in the same breath underneath pretenses of romance. Luckily for her, the Mikaelsons had always excelled at secrets.

Until they hadn’t.

Klaus discovered their romance after inklings of it. He had surprised them all when, with his new witch proudly presented on his arm, he announced his approval of Rebekah and Marcel’s relationship. Rebekah had called it off with Marcel a month later.

Because, though she loved her brother, she knew what he most desired: control. He controlled Elijah through his guilt. He controlled Finn through his depression. And just after a few months, he was able to finally control Kol through a pretty little witch signed to his name. Rebekah couldn’t let him use Marcel to control her.

She grabbed the necklace from him, clutching it close to her chest.

“What can I say, some jewelry is too pretty to throw away, even when the person who gave it to you is far less charming,” Rebekah deadpanned.

Marcel chuckled, but it was humorless.

“Just when your brother publically approves of our relationship, you turn me away,” said Marcel. “All so you can risk your neck by sneaking around with the Salvatore boy.”

Rebekah sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes grew wide, and she whipped around to stare at Marcel in disbelief.

“How do you know about that?” she asked, all pretenses of coldness gone in her need for an answer.

Rebekah had been seeing Stefan for the past year, ever since he pulled her aside at the past year’s ball. She cared for the boy, but not in the way she knew Marcel was imagining. Stefan was nothing more than a distraction, a way for her to get back at Klaus even if it was in the privacy of country inns and hidden alleys.

“I have eyes in this city, eyes that report to me way before they say anything to Klaus,” Marcel said. “Are you really willing to risk everything, being stuffed in a box for who knows how long, for some stupid kid, Rebekah.”

Rebekah clenched her fist.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “And it isn’t as if you haven’t had your share of strumpets since our parting.”

“My ‘strumpets,’ as you so lovingly call them, didn’t put me in danger of being killed by Klaus,” said Marcel. His voice suddenly grew soft. “Beks, after all these years. You are going to risk everything on him?”

Although that was his only question, Rebekah knew what he was actually asking.

_Were you not still willing to risk everything on me?_

“No,” Rebekah said. She did not know which question she was answering. She got up, forcing herself to school her features. If she looked at Marcel for too long, she knew she would crack. She loved him too much to crack.

“We should get going,” Rebekah said, she held out her hand, still not looking in the younger vampire’s direction. “We have a party to go to. Will you escort me to the ballroom?”

After a few seconds, Marcel took her hand. They walked out in silence. Maybe Marcel knew what she was doing. Maybe he did not. They were both playing their games, and until someone won they were left to what they did best: keeping secrets.

 

* * *

 

Damon looked at the Mikaelson’s house with disdain as their carriage pulled forward. He had to give the Original vampire props for style. He had only ever seen such beautiful architecture in the heart of Paris, but no doubt the design was done by the hands of Marcel and Klaus. They always wanted to be kings. For a while, Damon had been content with their ruling, as long as he got part of the action.

It had been a long time since he lived in the manor. He remembered it well. It had been his first real home. His father made sure that Italy was never home for Damon. A part of him wondered if he would be in Marcel’s shoes if he had never let himself become swayed by Katherine’s charms. She had Katerina then. But much had changed in two hundred years.

Damon looked around at the people sharing his carriage. His brother sat next to Lexi. The girl looked horribly bored as she stared out the window. Stefan looked as though he was wallowing in angst, so not out of the usual. Bonnie sat next to him. He had a hard time reading her emotions. She was an interesting thing. She was as strong as he hoped, but her stubbornness was going to prove itself to be troublesome if it was used against him.

Although he had to admit, the witch did clean up nice. Rose had picked a beautiful shiny, olive green dress for the girl to wear. It had long sleeves that draped at the end of her arms. The neckline was low but tasteful. Instead of wearing something underneath that widened her hips to house like proportions as was the trend. But instead had opted for a more natural shape. He hair had been curled and pulled up, leaving a few strands to frame her face. Damon was pleased to see that the maids had opted out of putting any rogue on her face. She was lovely enough without the help of cosmetics.

“Don’t try to look too excited for tonight,” Damon said to the group. “Wouldn’t want Klaus to think we were too eager to spend the evening in his presence.”

Lexi quirked a smile. Damon smirked back. Lexi could at least be fun when she wasn’t bent on leading them all on a moral pilgrimage.

“I’m sure Bonnie’s quiet has more to do with the fact she is stewing in anguish over the thought of having you as a dance partner,” Lexi said. She gave Bonnie a kind look and patted her knee, much like a mother. “Don’t worry, he might be sickening to look at, but he won’t step on your toes.”

Damon rolled his eyes. The carriage stopped in front of the doors, and one of the Mikaelson’s footmen opened their door. Stefan and Lexi headed out. Bonnie made to follow them, but Damon grabbed her wrist. She turned, giving him an annoyed look.

“Enzo assures me that your Grams is doing well,” Damon said, not quite sure what compelled him to tell her at this moment. He told himself he needed her focus if they were going to make it through the night. The witch’s eyes widened in surprise. Damon continued. “He gave her some blood and a proper doctor to stay at her side. Moved her to someplace nice.”

Bonnie looked at Damon. Her expression was so curious. It was a mixture of gratitude and disbelief, and some form of stubbornness that Damon could not read. She just nodded and headed out.

Curious thing indeed.

 

* * *

 

If Bonnie thought the Salvatore’s home had been nice, it was nothing compared to the Mikaelsons. She had heard of places in France with gold embossed against the wallpaper, and white pillars that held together twists and turns of architecture, handcrafted and painted with angels and cherubs. Everything about the Mikaelsons screamed elegance and light. It was a wonder how such dark and powerful creatures could live amongst such beauty.

“Like what you see?” Damon asked as he led her inside. He wiggled his brows. “Fun fact, my room was right up there.”

He pointed to the staircase as they passed along with the other couples. Bonnie looked at him with surprise.

“You lived here?” she asked. She tried to imagine the dark brooding figure that was Damon amongst the creams and pastels of the Mikaelson palace. “When did you--?”

Damon put a finger to his lips as they kept walking. Bonnie made a note to inquire further about the past of her new master.

They arrived at the ballroom, a huge open space. It was already full of people dressed to the nines in lavish gowns and tailored suits. It looked like a quilt of silk gowns and powdered wigs. Bonnie could make out Stefan and Lexi already out in the crowd. She could see figures sitting up top, their bodies’ outlines behind a curtain. Bonnie might have been paranoid, but she felt as if they were watching her.

Damon whispered something in a servant’s ear, and the servant turned to speak to the crowd.

“Presenting Damon Salvatore, Master of the Salvatore family, and his Mistress, the positively _enchanting_ Miss Bonnie Bennett.”

Damon smirked as Bonnie’s jaw dropped.

“What?” Damon said as they made their way down the steps.

“Enchanting?” Bonnie asked.

“It’s a joke, Miss Bennett,” Damon said. “You should try one sometime.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes. She noticed that many people had stopped their conversations to watch her and Damon once they arrived on the ballroom floor. A few people whispered to one another, a couple of men roamed over her body with their eyes with smirks. Even from a distance, Bonnie could sense they were all vampires. Her blood went cold. Did they know? Was their cover already blown?

“They are just impressed with how stunning you look,” Damon explained, sensing her building anxiety. He waved to a few attractive men with hungry eyes, expertly leading Bonnie through the crowd. “Which was obvious, if you didn’t already know.”

“Well, it is weird,” Bonnie said, raising her head high in defiance as she met a few of their eyes. She relaxed slightly as they found Lexi and Stefan, each nursing a champagne flute.

“Nice entrance,” Lexi said. “Did you have to be so obvious?”

Damon shrugged.

“I want them to know what I’m paying for,” Damon said. He lowered his voice. “Besides. If we were up to no good, we certainly wouldn’t want to announce to the world we had a witch now would we?”

He gave Lexi a tight smile and raised his drink before lifting it to his lips and taking a long sip. Stefan said nothing, looking moodier with each passing second.

Lexi looked at Bonnie.

“Can you believe these guys?” Lexi said. “I hate to crush any of your hopes, but they are like this all of the time. “

The smile she gave made Bonnie let out a small laugh. Lexi was far more comfortable to talk to than either of the Salvatore brothers. Bonnie had a feeling that Lexi kept both brothers in control, or at least stopped them from killing each other.

“Why is no one dancing?” Bonnie asked. She had never been to a ball before, but she had always imagined it would involve more music and movement. Her eyes trailed around the large room, stopping on a line of plainly dressed men and women against the wall, staring blankly out into the crowd. A vampire went up to one and took her arm, leading her out of the ballroom behind a veil.

“No one dances until the Master of the Home makes his appearance,” Lexi explained. Her eyes followed Bonnie’s gaze. “Refreshments.”

It didn’t take Bonnie long to understand. Her lips pressed together in a tight O, and she looked away with disgust.

“Don’t tell me you’re squeamish,” Damon teased.

“Not squeamish, appalled,” Bonnie quipped back. She was about to add that she had yet to see one of the humans that had been led into the room disappear when the next announcement made her stop.

“Presenting, Joshua Rosza and his date, the lovely Caroline Forbes.”

Bonnie turned around to stare at the staircase, her heavy skirts whipping around her. Descending the staircase was none other than Caroline, her arm looped around the young vampire. She wore a beautiful, royal blue gown that was far too expensive for a shop owner’s daughter. She smiled, and even from afar, Bonnie could tell by the way she tightly gripped onto her partner’s arm that she was nervous.

On instinct, Bonnie began to make her way towards her friend but was stopped when Damon appeared in front of her.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“That’s my friend, my _human_ friend,” Bonnie said, her voice rushed as she tried to keep her eyes on Caroline and Josh. They were moving through the crowd.

“So?” Damon quirked an eyebrow.

“So I am not going to stand here and let her become a vampire’s next meal.”

Bonnie turned, fully determined to weave through the large crowd to get to her friend when suddenly everyone seemed to stop. The crowd turned to face the front of the ballroom. There, at the top of the staircase stood Davina. She was dressed in the most luxurious red gown Bonnie had ever seen. Next to her, looking as important as the king himself, was a man that Bonnie had never seen but knew instantly.

“Presenting the Lord Niklaus and his Mistress, Davina Claire.”


End file.
